April Love 2021, Day 25: Bear
These are the feet that bear my not inconsiderable weight on a daily basis. They have done this for going on 67 years, I suppose (I don’t know how old I was when I learned to walk but I am shortly going to be 68 and knocking a year off that works as a rough heuristic, I reckon.)
Human feet are an astonishing piece of evolution. Each foot has 26 bones, 20 of which are actively articulated. I can recall learning the number of bones of each type, their names, and the drawing of the foot when I was training as a Radiographer.
In my youth I had a mixed view of my feet. At times I thought that I was extremely fortunate to have pretty feet. I would look at my schoolgirl peers in the changing rooms and so many of them had unlovely feet. Mine were long and slender and, due entirely to my habit of eschewing shoes whenever and wherever possible, they were unmarked by corns and other unpleasantness.
At the same time I was battling some complexes about my feet. They were big, no doubt about it. At least, they were long enough to warrant wearing a size 7 and at that time that felt to me to be quite shameful. My sister wore a 5 and my mother a 3. I felt like a clodhopper. I certainly felt unfeminine.
Things were made worse when my mother tried to have the ends of my toes chopped off.
I have infeasibly long great toes and they are largely responsible for my excessive foot length. They also have an upward tilt. The consequence was that my toes would work their way through the tops of my shoes. I think that this was thought to be too expensive and I was hauled off to the GP to see what might be done about it. Removing the ends of my toes was seriously discussed, believe it or not.
My toes still generate expense. I continue to go through tights and socks like nobody’s business. Knitting my own socks means that I can tailor the toes to my foot shape for greater durability. It’s a great skill to have.
My toes still generate expense. I still go through tights and socks like nobody’s business. Knitting my own socks means that I can tailor the toes to my foot shape for greater durability. It’s a great skill to have.
I have always favoured bare feet for comfort but no longer bare them in in public. My once almost-pretty feet are now bent and gnarly, lumpy from arthritis, and scarred from surgery. I have Hallux Rigidus; my big toe doesn’t bend and is very painful. Walking is difficult and heeled or pretty shoes are impossible.
Now I have (quite) pretty cover for my feet and comfort at the same time. These Groundies are a “barefoot” type of shoe. They allow the foot to feel the ground and the toes to spread in a natural manner.. The are lined with the softest of leather, so that socks are not necessary. Plus, this pair is sparkly. I love them.
Sorry, were you expecting something furry?