Best Foot Forward

It's time to come to grips with something. Something I've carried around with me from birth. Well, a couple things I've carried around from birth...

My feet.




Now, back when I was younger they weren't so much a problem. Mostly because I don't remember anything, but also because they were fat and little and therefor cute. In fact, they were so fat on the tops that my mom had to pay $35 for special shoes that fit, but that's just one of many feet stories.

Yes, my shoes were about the size of my head.

One would think based on the startling length of my mother's legs and my early foot to rest-of-body size ratio that I would be destined for height--
It's true that I am nearly 5 inches taller than the average American woman, but my siblings, who I terrorized into submission (because I was the biggest) during my childhood, have almost all passed me up. I'm the shrimp of the family.

This pic was almost three years ago. Just imagine all the boys 5-10 inches taller.

This is me and Porter just last week--I'm straining to be as tall as him. 

He's 13.

So if I'm not crazy tall, then what are these dang things for?!

Probably so I can tell my posterity that they never had and never will have it as bad as me. Your hover-car may break down, your galactic zoot-suit may be uncomfortably snug, or your post-apocalyptic loneliness may drive you to drink, but as long as you don't have Sasquatch feet, YOUR LIFE IS FINE.

These are what I walk around on all day. I mean, the left one isn't so bad--the toes line up just how they're supposed to, and at least a dark polish will distract a bit from the manliness... but the right one looks like I stepped in a food processor.

Which is ironic, because I basically might as well have. Kade and I were unloading the dishwasher when he pulled out the blade to the food processor, asked where to put it, accidentally dropped it, fumbled it, and watched it land squarely on my second toe. I probably should have got stitches, but it's just a toe. Plus, it's not like a big old scar was going to be cosmetically devastating, so I left it alone with some Neosporin and some gauze.
I wish I could say the injury was what caused it to bend all crooked like that...
but it did that before.



Guys, this is a big deal for me.

I haven't worn flip-flops in almost seven years.

Once, I wore flip flops in high school. Even though I'm sure no one noticed or remembers I was mortified, and thanked the heavens above for flare jeans in which to curl up my feet. Why had I been so stupid?

Once, I wore flip flops to a family vacation to St. George. My uncle picked one up and asked whose it was, and when I claimed them he held it up to the light (as if to get a better look) and exclaimed,

"Holy Feet!"

loud enough for everyone to hear, and continued to marvel at the monstrous size of my 13 year old feet for a good twenty minutes until I barricaded myself into a bedroom.

Once while in college, I walked out of my room to join the rest of my friends and roommates in the living room. One of them lovingly pleaded with me to "put those things away!" when she saw I was barefoot.

My best friend's dad referred to my feet as "boats" when I was 15.

Once, someone suggested I could reach anything at any height if I just stood on tip-toe, because the length of my feet would give me an extra twelve or so inches.

I used to research "foot reductions," and was very disappointed at the results.


I WORE SIZE EIGHT IN WOMEN'S AS A FOURTH GRADER!
I remember specifically because it was "the thing" to write "I love _____" on the bottom of your shoe so no one could see it. My friend and I turned our shoes upside down and there it was, the little rubber 8, for all the world to see. And she saw it. And pointed out she only wore a four.
How humiliating.





It's taken me a while, and probably much to others' chagrin, I now don't feel pressure to always wear socks in public. (I mean, I still feel oddly guilty for not wearing them, but I try not to let it get to me). And though I still look like a transvestite from the ankle down in flip-flops, I've accepted the fact that my feet are just... there.
So I might as well keep using them.

Plus, I've found a guy that loves them. And can hide his repulsion surprisingly well during foot-massages.

As long as I don't spread them so they're uglier than necessary ;)

And for the record, since I've become a mom my toes have been extra useful. How many people have toes that can grasp and pick up toys, blankets, and more?