Just Swell

Been here lately and wonder why there’s no new lies? I have none! Actually that’s a lie right there. I was on vacation, by the time I returned and got back into a routine, I allowed myself to get busy again and not make time to post anything. I’m about to remedy that; just call me Pinocchio.

I work out 4-5 days a week. Please hold your applause until the end and no that’s not the lie. As I said, I work out 4-5 days a week. One hour of cardio, 20 minutes of strength training and stretching. This is not because I like public displays of Lycra, its because I retain water better than a bucket. My legs swell and the skin becomes tight and itchy. Picture water balloons stuffed into sandals. Not at all appealing. So I trudge away on the treadmill, vacillating between a feeling of euphoria (which I attribute to endorphins) and anger, that at 34 I have legs like someone three times my age, complete with varicose veins. Side note: also there’s at times a splash of superiority for being able to lift more than the Exercise Barbie next to me.  Petty? Yes, but her public display of Lycra is so much better than mine so let me have this one.

When I come home from a long day, I like to put my feet up. Not in the metaphorical sense, I have to elevate them whenever possible. At work I have to sit for longer periods of time because like many, my work revolves around a computer. So to combat that I get up when I can to stretch and more often than not I prop my legs up on the tower of my computer. Much to the IT guy’s chagrin.

If I don’t do these things on a regular basis, my ankles swell to what I’m guessing a woman at nine months pregnant looks like. My friend Jeni is currently finishing her third pregnancy and is the picture of health; I’m more swollen than she is at this point.

Tonight as I sit here typing I can feel the fluid building in my ankles, making a puddle of skin around my size 10 feet. Ah! But that’s actually progress because I was 42lbs heavier last summer and wore a size 11 shoe. Some would point out the glass is half full!  Unless its half full of ice cream, I don’t care. I just know that tomorrow after having been in prone position all night, I will shuffle into the shower and immediately the fluid will ooze down to my feet and before I’ve even gotten out the door to head to work, my toes, so pretty with their French pedicure, will  be little piggies crying wee-wee-wee and want to go home.

Tonight’s lie (and 2 bonuses): my high heel shoes aren’t mocking me, my weight won’t be a constant source of frustration and I’ll grow another 3 inches in height to be more in proportion to my weight.