Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Day 52

I can’t avoid it anymore. It is time to talk about feet. Deep fried feet to be precise. And I am sorry Mum, but now is the time to talk about your feet. What the hell kind of God allowed you to grow those flippers?

It appears I may have inherited my Mum’s feet. The only thing I have in my favour is that I didn’t spend years squeezing my ridiculously wide feet into narrow pointy shoes like Mum did, so I am not quite as deformed. Mum deserves a disabled sticker for her car with the pain she experiences with her feet. She did go to a surgeon a year ago to have the “extra large knuckles” shaved so that she could wear a normal shoe and get around without so much agony, but after only getting one foot done she has declared the operation a disaster and now has one deformed foot and one foot that has actually doubled in size post op. As you can imagine it is a bit of a problem when you have a shoe fetish (something I also inherited from Mum) with one foot no longer fitting into anything but a Berkanstock or mountain boot. Luckily Mum has use for such shoes during her trekking adventures, but the other side of Mum is a well dressed and very feminine lady. They say Berkanstocks make your feet smile. Mum’s feet may be smiling but her mouth is pursed into a sour lemon grimace suggesting that Berkanstock’s are not the shoe of a fabulously stylish successful woman.

So I examine my feet fairly regularly to check them against the ugly meter and although they rate fairly high, they haven’t hit the red zone. Seriously though, all feet are ugly. I am not a foot person. They are by far the ugliest part of the body. But recently as I walked with my family on one of our coastal retreats I saw my feet in a new light. The sunlight to be precise. We were walking along in the heat of the day and I of course was wearing regulation thongs (flip flops for those of you in the Northern Hemisphere). As my family skipped across an intersection I was momentarily distracted by my toes. They were all piggy, stumpy and wrinkly looking and didn’t look like my toes at all. It took a few moments to realise I was in fact staring at my own feet – the tattoo on my right foot helped clarify that – and that even toes get weathered and aged and deep fried. What a shock! Deep fried toes on deep fried feet on a deep fried forty year old. I can’t escape it.

Poor Mum can’t escape it either. She was born into it. Derek jokes that it wasn’t the head crowning that caused Nanna birthing pain when Mum was born, it was her feet! Lukily Mum's positive physical qualities far outweigh the negative. She may have bad feet but she looks fabulous.

Sorry Mum. I Hope I haven’t put my foot in it …

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