the first day
This morning I got another good breakfast and piled some chocolates into my handbag. We walked as a group to the site where the meetings were being held. I didn’t really manage to keep up, but one of the others walked with me most of the way. The other two women who were there were NOT in high heels, and I was. My mistake. By the time we arrived I’d stumbled once (I was so far behind that nobody noticed) and developed a painful blister on the back of my left foot. I also looked exhausted, pink, sweaty, and totally messy.
I guess that the weekly yoga and swimming isn’t really doing enough to keep me high-heels-fit. Not only that – I’m a good seven kilograms heavier than the last time I walked for any distance in heels. I really felt that today.
After work I took the tram back to the hotel (everybody else walked) because I just knew that I’d either fall on my face if I tried to walk, or I’d give up and sit down in the middle of the footpath in tears wailing “but it HURTS”. The walk to the train only took five minutes (hobbling speed), I waited another five for the 7B tram, and the ride took five more. I arrived a few seconds before the rest of the group. Tomorrow I’m going to go there in the tram as well, they can take their fresh air brisk walk and shove it as far as I’m concerned.
At the hotel reception I got some plasters to patch myself up, and a softer pillow – here they offer a whole ‘pillow menu’ to choose from.
In the evening I went to the supermarket for some snacks, and when I came back I ended up in the lift with one of the women. We are both stuck at the VERY end of a corridor and I explained to her that the walk from the lift to my room alone was enough – walking to work as well was just too much. I also dropped a hint about how much more weight I’m carrying and that it makes it more difficult. When I told her that I’m also seven months along, she looked at me with total shock and disbelief. Once she got over herself she told me to look after myself. Which of course is what I’m doing. A supermarket shop that includes five snickers for two Euros IS looking after myself. Isn’t it?
Anyway, now I have to decide whether I can handle wearing heels again tomorrow or if I’ll risk going casual. The bad ache on the top of my foot, at the ankle joint, is telling me that I won’t manage in heels tomorrow. I also remember now that pregnant women are recommended against things like certain sports and high heels not because of any danger inherent in the sport or the shoe, but because of the risk of falling. Even on my way to the tram I went over on my heel a bit. For the sake of the foetus, I’m going to have to go with flats tomorrow. I’ll try to be sitting by the time the client comes in and anyway, they probably won’t notice. I might even dare go with my new H&M jeans, my black Baby Phat trainers and a pretty jumper that will make at least my half top look smart.