feet week

dogs. piggies. flippers. floppers. Anyway you slice it, my feet are not pretty. One time I was with a friend’s sister who was talking about how ugly her feet were—“I mean they’re just nasty, gnarled things”—and I casually mentioned that they probably couldn’t complete with mine. It was a bit of false modesty. I knew the drill: the lady complains about her feet, I casually slip off my socks and wham! The competition is over. My feet are like fleshy blocks—short, wide, with toes overlapping, and nail-beds little more than half the normal size. I come by them honestly—my mom’s are little better and my sister’s extend half a mile before eventuating in toes the length fingers. I didn’t help my poor genes by spending half a life of ski racing in boots two sizes too small, not mention a persistent proclivity for standing on my tiptoes to gain half an inch. I regularly have three blisters, an ingrown toenail, and a healthy start to a corn.

And so now, as I contemplate wedding shoes, I face any number of dilemmas. I want to be comfortable (really, really, really comfortable), I don’t want to peer over the head of J (no three-inch heels for me), I want to be able to dance, and the shoes need to be gold to work with my unusual color dress. So I’ve decided to dedicate this week to what I’m calling “The great shoe off.” You will see here a different shoe each day (if all arrive on time) and then on Friday, you just need to tell me which will work the best. I’ll take your advice, really I will. So if you’re game, just tell me what you think in the comments below.