I have funky feet. I believe the medical term is hallux valgus or bunion. However, the word bunion makes me think of a 10 foot tall lumberjack with a big blue ox, and as everyone knows my ox is purple with yellow polka dots, so I just say I have funky feet. Sometimes I call them Geckle feet because my grandmother had the same problem and her maiden name was Geckle. With a maiden name like that, I’d probably be less resistant to the patriarchal idea of taking your husband’s last name.
Bunions can be caused in women by wearing high-heeled pointy shoes too much. I suppose that could cause bunions in men too, but it’s less common. Mine are just genetic. I’ve had them since I was a kid and I swear I wasn’t wearing 4-inch stilettos in kindergarten. They don’t cause me any pain, but because of them I’ve avoided high-heeled shoes since the 9th grade. Why go and make the problem any worse? Also, when you weigh over 300 pounds, high-heeled shoes are no more your friend than that boy who used to throw spit wads in your hair during math class. Sure, they’re both cute, but they cause you such suffering!
But for every fat cell I deplete, I think my vanity increases by a tenth of a percent. I bought a new tank top and jacket to wear to the Over the Rhine concert last night and I decided the sneakers just weren’t going to cut it anymore, so I went shopping for a pair of cute shoes – with a coupon of course. I went into the store set on buying a pair of sensible but pretty brown shoes since I knew I’d be standing around at the concert in them. I’m all about sensible shoes. You never know when a bomb might explode and your survival will depend on how fast you can book it to the closest emergency exist.
Then I saw these cute shoes which even had a cute pattern on the bottom. If I went running through the mud in them I’d leave a delightful imprint, though they probably wouldn’t be good to wear while murdering someone in the mud. They wouldn’t even need a fancy fluorescent light to catch me. But they also have a three-inch heel, though combined with a one-inch midsole that’s really only a two-inch elevation my heel would have to deal with. I saw another pair of shoes that were also cute, but not quite as cute, that had a one-inch heel. The one-inch heeled shoes were as cute as a kitten, but the three-inch heeled shoes were as cute as a three-legged kitten. So thus I faced a philosophical question in the middle of DSW Shoe Warehouse – vanity or sensibleness?
Vanity of course! Duh, I mean, I did just post a picture of the cuter shoes. Did you think I stole them? That would be an ethical question, not a philosophical one. It even turned out that the concert venue that I thought I would be standing at turned out to have seats. So I didn’t even have to suffer for my beauty. And no bombs went off, so I didn’t have to trample anyone with my clogs to bring you this blog post.