Two days ago, I realized something was missing. I looked down at my feet, and they were gone. In their place has arisen a mound of awe-inspiring proportions. Where my normal-size tummy used to be is a massive belly that sticks out several inches past my formerly impressive bust line, making the once-startling peaks which Chris had dubbed “the monsters” look like mere foothills in comparison to the Everest at whose base they lie.
Amid all these geographical changes, I have lost track of my toes. I swear I used to have them. Not too long ago, I could merely look down and reassure myself they were still there. Now, I must rely on the word of others (or actually bend over and check for myself, but that causes blood-pressure drama, which is a story for another day).
I have no idea when this change occurred. The last time I checked to see if my toes were still there, it was early December, and they seemed perfectly fine. Now, they have fallen prey to the all-encompassing mountain.
What hapless body part will fall victim next? I suspect that quite soon, my innie belly button will vanish as well. Or perhaps the constant rumbling within the heart of the mountain will at last conquer its mortal enemy, the bladder.
Meanwhile, if you see my feet, please let me know how they are doing. I worry about them.
And here are the much-anticipated Week 23 belly shots. Perhaps you can see why my toes have gone AWOL.
