“This better not be some ploy to stock your closet even MORE full of shoes,” the hubs warns, his face lined with slight hesitation, coupled with annoyance.
“No, I swear…I need a half-size smaller!” I said, rotating the block of ice perched across the sides of my feet, wincing as I tucked them in a new position.
You see, nearly overnight, my tootsies went from a size 8 to at least a 7.5, no warning, no reason, no nothing, causing me to slip out of my shoes constantly and create odd muscle injuries in the process. What gives?
Age? Weight loss? Gain? Surely it can’t be that baby…he’s over two years old now?!
So while WebMD, Mayo, Armstrong and Google can’t help me out with these feet that have lost inches, I’ll take it. Because one size smaller in anything is, well…awesome. Ok, maybe not so much for the males in the group or when it comes to bra sizes, but again, I’ll take it. For that only means one thing:
A trip to Nordys.
Join me, won’t you? We have foot wear to purchase!
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