It’s the time of year when women like to show off their pretty feet. That is women who have pretty feet. Let me be the first to tell you that I’m not one of them. My feet are so ugly that they would make a podiatrist recoil. And, if ever there is a TV show featuring the world’s ugliest feet, I will go toe-to-toe to convince you that I am a shoe-in to win first place.
There might be some saving grace for my right foot, but the left one puts its counterpart to shame. Lefty has a bunion that looks like a swollen golf ball, and it has a hammer toe to boot. The toe next to the hammer has a small bump. And though the middle toe has no defects, the one beside the pinkie has twin corns but the littlest piggy has none.
When I was a child, my mom, like most moms do, would take me shoe shopping and have me try on the shoes while in the store. She would press down and around the toe area to see if I had wiggle room and then tell me to walk around. If I assured her that the shoes felt “Good.” and she was satisfied that my feet had adequate space, she would buy the pair. But occasionally, a day or two later while wearing those cute shoes, my dogs would start yelping. It was as if the shoes had magically decreased a size after we brought them home.
When I became an employed young adult, living on a shoestring budget, I still, occasionally and inadvertently, bought ill-fitting shoes, mainly because I liked the style. One thing overlooked for years was that I had wide feet. The cute narrow shoes that I favored, especially the pointy ones, often scrunched my toes. My feet are a testament to years of wearing uncomfortable shoes.