I finally did it. I partook in postpartum ballet activities. I stretched, I arabesqued, I port-de-brased, I degaged. So we have complete disclosure here, I should say that what I did was a half-hour warm-up. But still.
Things went well. I did not twist my ankles (though my right one had me worried during a daring jump), and I did not pull my hamstrings. Yay. This is still a concern to me, #1, because as long as I'm breastfeeding, I still have relaxin pulsing through my veins, loosening my ligaments; and #2, because it's been a freaking-long time since I've done this. And did I mention that I broke three metatarsals in my right foot a year ago, when I was in my second trimester? So today was a big deal. I proved to myself that I still have it in me...to warm up. I imagined that this was preparation for all the good things on the horizon. Yum.
And I also got to remember that I like how my feet look. No matter that I'm still about fifteen pounds away from my delicious Ann Taylor wardrobe...I feel good, and I feel pretty, and I like my feet. They are rarely pedicured, and they're not narrow, but they're sinewy, and they work. I have feet that WORK!!! How great is that?
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