At age seven, I called bullshit on the whole Cinderella thing. In my inchoate and pre-pubescent mind, that glass slipper wasn’t wide enough to fit anyone’s foot — especially a woman who spent the better part of her day doing house chores.
A glance at my own tootsies confirmed my suspicions: Cinderella’s dream would never be my reality. The boney extremities protruding from below both of my big toes meant that I would never feel polished in a Manolo Blahnik BB pump, nor would I walk a mile in somebody else’s narrow Ferragamos. I could forget about glass slippers; my bloody bunions had destined me to a life of Dr. Scholl’s.
Some girls inherit fine jewelry from their grandmothers. Others are bequeathed secret recipes for salted chocolate cake and casseroles. A friend of mine treasures her late grandfather’s military dog tag, and I? I inherited my name, a severe lactose allergen and bunions so aggressive, they create a V-shaped gap when I stand with my feet together.
Bunions make getting dressed for weddings at least 50% more difficult. There isn’t a feminine shoe in Carrie Bradshaw’s closet that could make dancing with these toe erections any less painful. I wear sneakers with sundresses not to evoke the (now defunct?) normcore movement, but because the thought of walking long distances in anything but New Balances makes me want to take a jagged saw to the bone.
I’d eat rotten kale sooner than I’d rub a foot up against my bed-partner’s leg; that shit is not sexy, it is offensive. I bury my feet in the sand when on beaches with friends, and relieve them of their imprisoning shoes almost the moment I sit down at my desk. People constantly ask me what’s wrong with my feet.
And yet, I refuse to have removal-surgery. I’m convinced they’ll grow back and haunt me, but also — if we’re being honest — the bunions have grown on me.
These funky foot bones are deformed, inconvenient and a consistent source of discomfort, but they are mine. Through the pain and the shame, I have grown a strange attachment to them. My humps. My odd, lovely lady lumps. Besides, you probably couldn’t dance very well in glass slippers, anyway.
According to Google, an estimated 23% of adults suffer from bunions, so pray, do commiserate with me. And if you feel so inclined, share some bunion friendly footwear.
Here are mine:
SOURCE: Man Repeller – Read entire story here.