Monday, November 4, 2013


When I look back on 2013, it's gonna be remembered as the year my feet sucked nonstop.

First, there was the ingrown toenail of January, caused, I am certain, by my going on a running kick for three weeks. As evidence, I present the fact that by February, both my urge to jog and the ingrown were both gone, and neither has recurred.  Science, bitches!

Then came the long, drawn-out drama of the plantar wart.  One day in early March, I noticed a pain in the ball of my left foot. Upon examination, I found a tiny red dot. That's it. Very insignificant looking for the amount of irritation it was causing, but it was right on that part of the sole that one's weight rolls onto as one walks, and directly on the spot where all pressure from walking lands if one is wearing heels. When I brushed my finger over the dot, the feeling was very reminiscent of having a splinter. I thought this was odd, as I am not a go outside barefoot kind of person, but then I remembered that I had dropped a wineglass the previous weekend. I had cleaned up afterward, of course, but whose to say I got every tiny little splinter and sliver of glass? Since I couldn't actually see anything under the skin, my assumption that it was a tiny piece of glass was bolstered, and I assumed it would work its way out on its own.

I have rarely been more wrong.

A callous developed over the site, and the pain increased to the point where I was always limping. I couldn't wear any shoes other than Keds, and even with those I had to add extra insoles to cushion the callous. I consulted Dr. Google and discovered it was a plantar wart. I spent the next six months alternating between surprisingly painful cryosurgical treatments at my doctor's office (IT BUUUURNSSSS!!) and treating it with salicylic acid at home. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst was this: I couldn't get a pedicure all summer.  I couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching that foot, for one thing, and for another, I felt it would not be a good citizen-type move to risk exposing others to the virus that causes this type of wart. This is a big deal to me, because I don't like my feet unless they're dressed up, and I am terrible at doing my own nails. I hate having hot feet, and because of the combo of no pedicure plus limp-making pain in non-sneaker shoes, I spent my summer wearing close-toed shoes. I am a girl who loves her strappy sandals and peep-toe pumps.  Then, about two weeks ago, I was walking the dog and realized my foot didn't hurt. Over the last few days,  the callous has completely gone and I have no more pain.

In that foot, anyway.

Suddenly the plantar fasciitis that I've had off and on over the years in my right foot flared up again. Now I can only wear shoes that my orthotics will fit into. I've also had to step down my cardio routine a little bit, which is annoying, because now I feel caught in a trap: I need to lose weight to stop the fasciitis, but I can't exercise as much because it causes the pain to flare up. Very frustrating.

I told you all that to tell you this: I got a pedicure yesterday, and I was so happy! I cranked the massage chair up to eleven, settled in with a People magazine and blissed out.

Until it was time for color, and no one, including me, in the entire salon could get the top of my color unscrewed. And it was the last bottle of that color in the shop.

Well played, feet.

I went with an inferior color and could only laugh in agreement when Erica said "Man, these first world problems are so hard!"

That's alright, though. Inferior color or no, my feet are looking pretty damn cute right now.  

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