Bigfoot can't afford Manolo Blahniks

When I was pregnant and getting more and more enormous by the day, I was afraid that my feet would never go back to normal. At one point I was wearing size ten flip flops from Old Navy, which were a little snug and left dents in the top of my feet. (Not that I actually had feet; they were more like paws.) I expected a lot of body parts to change size, tootsies included. Everyone says the feet do expand to accommodate the extra weight. Most women I’ve spoken to about this say their feet got a size bigger for each child. Two sizes, I thought, I am having two babies. Was I going to be doomed to have to cut circles of leather and tie them with a leather thong, like Ayla in The Clan of the Cave Bear? As the pregnancy progressed and I added up that I was gaining about 9 pounds a month, I knew I would definitely wear a larger shoe. What I was most afraid of was having feet both longer and wider. I already had a hard time finding shoes owing to the width of my size 8 pre-pregnancy feet, but feet twice as big and twice as wide? No Jimmy Choos for me, alas alack! Not that my husband is willing to shell out $500 for a pair of three inch heels in pale green satin with rhinestone buckles on the ankle strap – but it would be wonderful, no? (And yes, I would find somewhere to wear them! To the supermarket, to the coffee shop, to my sister’s house, with jeans, with a skirt, with my everlasting yoga pants…)

Since I gained almost 80 pounds (Yep, that’s right. Eight zero. I am five foot three, and had a 62-inch waist. I looked like a beach ball) my feet did expand. However, my worst fears were not realized; I am now a size nine, but I think a little narrower…hmm. Well, that’s my excuse for “having” to buy all new shoes. Any excuse to go shopping; too bad it’s only at Nine West. Now if only the babies would give me a day off to do it. A day off from mama-hood, for me to do my own thing? As all mamas are thinking: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! HA!

I remember when I lived in Atlanta, one of my many job was at J. Crew. I really only got the job because I wanted the discount, not out of any desire to further my retail career. Be that as it may, I was there for about four months over the Christmas season and beyond. There was a very pretty lady who used to come in every Thursday and wander around, sometimes buying and sometimes not. Once I was chatting with her, and remarked – “You here a lot. Do you have a weekly date at the mall?” She replied – “I have every Thursday on my own – it’s Mother’s Day Out.” At the time I thought, why on earth does she need or want a day away from her baby? Now I think – Lucky wench.

If I had only paid attention and lined up my “days off” as soon as I found out I was expecting. I try to tell my pregnant friends show lonely and frustrating and annoying and damn boring it can be trying to fill your days when you have a baby to carry around, but to a woman they all say – “I’m sure I’ll be fine! I am just going to love this baby so much” and “I won’t have to ask for time for myself. My husband is bound to want time to bond with the baby on his own.” Yes, of course the husband will want time, but every time you need to be alone, will he know, just by instinct? And of course you will love your baby! We all adore our scrumptious munchkins more than we could have ever imagined loving another human being. But one does need time to collect the scattered wits and reassemble oneself, that may be higgily-piggily all over the shop. The most deluded comment of all came from a smart, nice, kind of funny and kind of funky woman, who once said, in response to her husband’s offer of taking the babies for a walk every night when he got home to give her space – “Don’t leave me alone, I am sure I’ll want to come along! I love walks!” What a dumb thing to say… oh, wait. That was me.