A Great Leap
These are my feet.
I have hated my feet forever. In fact, I did not wear sandals until I was out of high school because I was so self-conscious about my ugly feet.
When I was a child, of course, I didn’t think too much about my feet (other than I hated being barefoot).
When I was a teenager, I thought about my feet too much. I also thought about, well, mySELF too much. It amuses me now to realize how much time and energy I have spent worrying about what goes on in the heads of other people. I still do it, of course. Only I beat myself up about it much more now.
Back to the feet.
I have bunions in both feet. Jesus does that make me sound old. The truth is, though, I have had said bunions since I was a teenager. Although there is a ton of evidence out that implicates the wearing of heels or too-small shoes in the development of bunions, mine are the result of plain ol’ genetics.
Anyone who knows me could dismiss the heel theory pretty quickly.
My feet hurt pretty much all the time. I briefly had to deal with plantar fasciitis in addition to the bunions, but that went away after I lost weight. I have to be very careful about what kinds of shoes I wear – anything heavy, or tight, or with even a hint of a heel will leave me limping. It sucks.
I went to a podiatrist (insert old-person groan here) and his solution is to surgically correct my feet. His description of the surgery included the phrase “knock you out using the stuff that killed Michael Jackson.” Is that the guy you want cutting your feet while you are asleep? Uh, me neither.
So I struggle with my ugly, bunioned feet. I hide them. I wear flats. I even wear my brown UGG slippers to work – shut up, nobody can tell. I limp and then cringe whenever anyone asks me why.
“My, uh, feet,” is usually my only answer. I should probably come up with a more interesting story – bunions are so over.
These feet, though, have brought me places I never imagined:
- across the stage to receive my graduate school diploma
- down the aisle to my waiting, soon-to-be husband
- into a hospital room to birth my children
- onto an airplane flying to Hawaii
- across the finish line of my first race
There are days when I do not even imagine getting out of my bed in the morning. But these feet, somehow, miraculously, pull themselves out from under the covers and plant themselves onto the floor – propelling me into another day of this life I never knew would be mine.