Life's Swell

31 weeks

I am beginning to feel like a beach ball. Turn me on one side and you could easily roll me down a hill: one big round ball with little arms and legs waving about. My father says you can see me coming before I get round the corner. I am frightened that people are going to start calling me Alex "The Barrell" Gray.

I'm not just swelling at an alarming rate round the middle, my ankles are like slabs of meat with podgy little toes poking out. Apparently there's a term for this – "Cankles". The word attempts to capture the phenomenon of calves running straight into feet, ankles having completely disappeared. The fact that someone has actually come up with a name for it doesn't offer much comfort.

I've been suffering from "cankles" for a while but now the swelling has spread to my hands. Not only can I no longer wear my wedding ring, I am now also suffering, thanks to the swelling, from repetitive strain injury in my knuckles and wrists. People are going to think I'm an arthritic single mother. And it's pretty inconvenient for someone who does a lot of typing for a living.

What's the purpose of all this swelling? I can understand that BabyG needs plenty of cushioning around the belly but why hands and feet have to join in I have no idea. It's getting such an effort to lug this swollen body around that I am starting to entertain dark thoughts about stealing the little old lady across the road's mobility scooter that she rides to the shops in just to give my poor legs a break.

Remember Violet Beauregarde, from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory? She's the kid that blows up into a giant blueberry and has to be wheeled into the juicing room before she explodes. It's a story that's just a bit too close for comfort.