Hi My Name is Mommy Perks...

And I have cankles.

No seriously.  I noticed it earlier today while I was at work.  It was sort of horrifying.  And NOT just because my ankles have been one of the few body parts I feel I've managed to maintain control over as the rest of my body continues to expand with out consulting me.

As I looked down and first noticed this unpleasant reality, I was silmutaneously smacked in the face with a painful sense of disgust which was intersected by an overwhelming sense of guilt for any pair of cankles I've ever seen in my past 26+ years of existence and made fun of or judged.  I take it all back cankle gods.  Forgive me.  Please.  Don't torment me in my last month of pregnancy by taking away one of my last few shreds of dignity.  And to think-this is all happening just DAYS before I have to stand in a wedding.

Pause.  Rewind.  Reread.

Yes.  You read that correctly.  In just 4 short days I will serve as a bridesmaid in a wedding for a dear friend of mine.  I will be 9 months along.  I'd ask you to leave your judgement at the door as you ponder how I will possibly manage to slip into normal bridesmaid attire for this classy affair on Saturday, but the truth is...if you saw what I looked like in the ensemble, and you weren't judging me, I'd be insulted.

In fact-last night as I pranced around Henry's nursery in my bridesmaid skirt (complete with my very own super-stretchy pregnancy waistband)...Daddy Perks said something along the lines of..."It's weird, because I've never considered my wife to be a puffy woman before."  Yes-puffy.  And truth be told...there's no other way to describe the way I look.  In fact, in the moment in which he classified me as puffy, I felt the need to re-enact that classic scene from the movie where girl and boy are running through the sunkissed field to throw their arms around one another to kiss one another.  Why?  Because if Daddy Perks had described me as any other way besides puffy then he would have been LYING.  In the moment, I thought-I love this man for his brutal honesty, even in my darkest of puffy, cankle possessing hours.

So where am I going with this? I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M GOING WITH THIS.  It's 5 am...I've been up with Henry since around 4 am since he apparently decided to catch the early morning in utero jazzersize  class, and I'm venting to an inanimate object about how if I currently divided my body parts up into two teams: "Swollen" Vs. "Skinny"...Skinny would be getting it's ass kicked.  No-I'm sorry, Team Skinny would have had to forfeit because they didn't even have enough players show up to the game.

And some of you are still hung up on the fact that I'm going to be a bridesmaid on Saturday.  You can barely wrap your brain around the concept.  How does one fit a nine month pregnant belly into the infamous age-old attire which has been haunting and tormenting women for centuries?  (NO. WE WILL NEVER WEAR THE DRESS AGAIN you silly wishful thinking bride-just pick the one you like, and we'll deal with it!)

Well have no fear my faithful readers...as is the case with most weddings...there will be a professional photographer there to document all the gory details-no wide lense necessary.  I'm confident no unflattering angle will be missed as I attempt to scoop my pride and dignity off the floor and smile for the camera :)  So spend a few days conjuring up what you think is the worst I could possibly look in a mirage of pink and purple taffeta swirls, and rest assured knowing, this mama ain't too proud to help celebrate her dear friends' nuptials...extra fabric and all.