Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop
The human foot contains a quarter of the bones in the human body. Twenty-six bones in each, linked together by a complex structure of tendons and ligaments and muscles, all designed to carry our weight.
The feet are the body’s workhorses.
I’ve always believed that.
For much of my adult life, I’ve spared no expense to pamper my feet. Massages. Regular pedicures. Foot baths. Fancy creams. I may forget to wash my face before I conk out every night, but my feet are always soft and clean.
Maybe that’s why how I justify shoes. More than a quarter of my wardrobe is comprised of footwear. Stilts and flats. Sandals and boots. I’d buy at least one pair of shoes a day if I could.
In spite of my excess, I only have one pair of urban street shoes that are comfortable enough to walk in for extended periods of time. Unstructured Clark’s mary janes. I picked them up seven or eight years ago on clearance. Until last fall, I almost never wore them.
Because I wore the rest of my comfort shoes to death.
So, imagine MTM’s frustration last Wednesday, as we walked a random sidewalk together.
“I need a new pair of shoes, MTM.”
“What for? You have at least fifty pairs of shoes.”
“But, these are my only comfortable travel pair.”
Swears under breath. “What is it with you women? The only POINT of a shoe is to get you from point a to point b in comfort.”
“No, the point of a shoe is to express one’s personality, and–”
“That’s idiotic, Andra.”
“Do you like seeing me in my sky-high Jimmy Choo’s?”
“Or what about those yellow patent platform ones you insisted I buy?”
“You know what the chiropractor said yesterday………what could happen if I don’t take care of my feet? Remember?” Winces and limps a little. Displays swollen foot on public street. People stare.
“Here’s a Camper store, Andra. I’m going to duck in here and hide.”
To be continued……………..