No, this posting is not about the ill-fated Paula Abdul hit, whose video featured a gaudy, tap-dancing cartoon cat. Although, when you think about it-- that cat really thought he was cooler than Paula in the video. What nerve! No one was cooler than Paula back then. She was a Laker Girl, for Pete's sake. But I digress.
This posting is about my feet. I have the feet of a 95 year old woman (I'll spare you the gruesome details about the evidence that causes me to feel this way). If given the opportunity to have reconstructive surgery of ANY kind, I would have a foot-lift (rhinoplasty coming in a close second- I'll save that little vignette of vanity for another time). Little nip here, tuck there, maybe some dermabrasion treatments... The resurgence of flip-flops (tragically known as "thongs" in many areas of the USA) make it very difficult to live with ugly feet. Cute feet are everywhere, it seems. Cute, obedient feet are rewarded with slip-ons and strappy sandals, and yet I wander the earth in sneakers and low-cut socks. No pedicure can save them, believe me, I have tried everything. Technicians at several reputable, high-end Chicago salons have BLANCHED at the mere sight of them.
Was it years of uncomfortable dance shoes that made my feet this way? Perhaps it was the pair of now-weathered Doc Marten boots that I wore all throughout high school? Maybe the real culprits were the many pairs of clunky, UDA-endorsed Nikes, that never seemed to fit quite right. What have I done to deserve this fate?!
This posting is about my feet. I have the feet of a 95 year old woman (I'll spare you the gruesome details about the evidence that causes me to feel this way). If given the opportunity to have reconstructive surgery of ANY kind, I would have a foot-lift (rhinoplasty coming in a close second- I'll save that little vignette of vanity for another time). Little nip here, tuck there, maybe some dermabrasion treatments... The resurgence of flip-flops (tragically known as "thongs" in many areas of the USA) make it very difficult to live with ugly feet. Cute feet are everywhere, it seems. Cute, obedient feet are rewarded with slip-ons and strappy sandals, and yet I wander the earth in sneakers and low-cut socks. No pedicure can save them, believe me, I have tried everything. Technicians at several reputable, high-end Chicago salons have BLANCHED at the mere sight of them.
Was it years of uncomfortable dance shoes that made my feet this way? Perhaps it was the pair of now-weathered Doc Marten boots that I wore all throughout high school? Maybe the real culprits were the many pairs of clunky, UDA-endorsed Nikes, that never seemed to fit quite right. What have I done to deserve this fate?!
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