I’ve been hobbling around in what I call "das boot" after a recent operation to correct my "Greek foot."
If you’ve ever seen images of Greek statues (or the real thing), your eyes start at the head, then travel down to those fig leaves supplied by the Vatican, then further down to the feet, where you notice that, for some reason, there is always a gap between the big toe and the rest of the toes on the statue’s foot.
I was looking in the full-length mirror on my closet door a few months ago, when I suddenly exclaimed, "I have a Greek foot!" Sure enough, there was a gap between the big toe on my right foot and the rest of the toes.
It wasn’t painful–just weird.
I thought I’d better make an appointment with the podiatrist. Since I was basically born with bad feet, I’ve made many trips to these docs. In fact, I’ve had THREE bunion operations, despite the fact that I only have two feet!
I once said to Whitley, "You wouldn’t buy a horse with bad hooves, but you married a woman with bad feet."
The podiatrist told me that one of those bunion operations had been done before doctors knew better than to cut the tendon in the big toe. My toe was listing to the left, and it would just keep on going. Sandals would become a thing of the past.
Sandals are tricky during the best of circumstances, anyway. They involve getting a pedicure (or giving yourself one), and just like with that Greek statue, there is so much to see and do at the TOP of the body that fooling around with the feet often gets put off until sandal season is over.
Also, most people have ugly feet. I know there are special "hand" models, and I don’t doubt that there are special "foot" models as well.
I once asked my manicurist (I’ve never figured out how to use nail polish, so when summer comes, I get my toenails "done"), if mine were the ugliest feet she’d ever seen and she laughed loudly and said not by a long shot–that some people’s feet were REALLY ugly. If that’s the case, then some people must have feet like Hobbits (mine are ALMOST that bad).
The only good thing about this operation is that I’ve been able to apply for a temporary handicapped parking sticker for our car (which I’m sure won’t come until I don’t need it anymore).
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Haha! Fun read.
I never knew
Haha! Fun read.
I never knew how to makeup, or do the body paintables. (Isn’t the hair hard enough?) But the ability to be mobile, what a great thing.
Good to hear you’re okay,
Good to hear you’re okay, Anne, in chat, Whitley mentioned he was nursing you after an operation, although he left before he told us what it was about. I have Greek feet too, with both the elongated middle toe (that’s what actually defines a Greek foot) and the gap between the big and middle toes. It’s never caused me any problems, although my feet have always been sensitive.
I wonder what they call
I wonder what they call “Greek foot” in other parts of the world. What you describe is exactly what happens in Hawaii because you grow up wearing rubber “slippers,” or rubber flip-flops. There they call it “Luau foot,” with the accent on ‘foot.’ My son, who grew up in Hawaii wearing those “slippers,” has luau foot and wears a quadruple E width because of that huge gap between the big toe and the other toes. It’s actually pretty funny to look at, but only because he’s a guy. On a woman that’s a different story, I suppose, with needing to have pretty feet for nail polish. Yecch! It’s so much trouble to be a conventional Vogue representative that it takes time away from interesting endeavors. So why bother? I don’t. But I’m glad your necessary surgery will leave you with functional feet, at least. Here’s to your recovery!