
Let's talk about my feet.
My feet are long. I hesitate to say that they're "big" because to me, "big" implies that they should be shopping in the basement at Macy's, or something. They're not wide, at all, and I don't think that anyone has ever said, unsolicited, "Wow, Teri, you sure do have some big feet!"
But who am I kidding? Before I got pregnant, my feet were a size 9.5 or 10, depending on the shoe manufacturer. Because my feet are narrow, I would usually go with the 9.5 just to keep the shoe from flopping off of my heel, but technically, I was a 10. And while I'm not a shoe-hound, I had some pretty cute shoes and boots, especially for fall.
I am sorry to report that none of those cute fall shoes fit me anymore (I suspect - I haven't even tried on any of my boots yet because they all have pretty high heels and I just can't go there right now). This summer, I lived in my Clarks slide-on sandals and my flip-flops (and my pink Dr. Scholl's sandals, RIP). Now that we're past Labor Day (and I'm four weeks overdue for a pedicure), and since I've even outgrown my loafers, I wear pretty much the same pair of shoes every day. They are pictured above, and they are my Pregnant Lady Velcro Shoes, SIZE 11. My feet, you see, have grown.
I need to give a shout-out to the fine people at Nike/Cole-Haan for making these shoes. They are comfortable, supportive, and I don't need to tie them, making the process of getting dressed in the mornings a whole lot easier. I must also reprimand Bloomingdale's, Rich's, and Nordstrom for not carrying these shoes in a size 11. Shame on them. I finally found a pair of these shoes in black and in my size at a Cole-Haan store in New York City. Shoe stores of the South, I know you can do better than that, and you should.
There's nothing I can say beyond, "I LOVE THESE SHOES!" Seriously - they are stylish, they have velcro, and they are so important to me right now that last night, I actually had a nightmare in which someone stole my Pregnant Lady Velcro Shoes, Size 11, and replaced them with the same shoes in a size 9.5. In this dream, I was frantic. The 9.5's taunted me, I was barefoot, and I went around to everyone I knew asking them what they did to my shoes, and wanting to know who had played this sick, sad joke on a poor pregnant woman who wanted nothing more than the small comfort that comes from having a pair of shoes that fit.