When Bad Things Happen to Good Feet

My feet were the victims of two bad shoe choices made over a few weeks ago. Incident #1 occurred when I wore the pair of Privo comfort shoes below: Like many new pairs of shoes, they needed to be broken in to be fully wearable. However, I wore them for the first time when I went on what I considered a short walk across the park to meet Dr. P and Husband for dinner. By the time I got there 45 minutes later, the backs of my heels were gushing bloody messes. Fortunately, Dr. P was able to dress my wounds by expertly applying bandages after I purchased a box at a convenience store near the restaurant. Unfortunately, the restaurant ran out of my favorite dish by the time we sat down.

After enough time elapsed that the holes in my heels healed sufficiently, Incident #2 happened. I wore a pair of Franco Sarto loafers (below) to a conference.I wore these shoes gazillions of times over the eons (5 years) that I owned them, and they never bothered me, even when I wore only toe socks with them and not stockings. They must have been possessed by evil spirits three weeks ago because they ate a huge swath of skin off the side of my foot. Oh, it made the stigmata in my heels feel like a picnic in the park.

The point of all this is that I had an argument with Husband about how to best heal the all wounds on my foot. Husband insisted that I must liberally apply Neosporin (which he believes cures everything from holes in one’s body to sore throats) and cover it with a bandage. My plan was to dry everything out in the fresh air while I slept. He explained that I’d get an infection under my scenario because, “Bacteria says, ‘Knock, knock, knock,’ and the Band-Aid says, ‘Go the fuck away.’ The Neosporin gives the Band-Aid confidence; otherwise it would not talk smack to the bacteria.” As convincing as that argument was, I let it air out. Finally, after buying a pair of flip flops and a pair of awesome pink backless shoes that I got for 1/2 off because any other shoes hurt too much to wear, the injuries healed. I could wear regular shoes again.

Yesterday morning, I tried wearing the Privos again. It started out well, but by the time I arrived at the subway, the rubbing was bad. (I did think ahead, though, and brought the pink shoes with me just in case.) As I was cursing the waste of money these things turned out to be, I noticed a woman enter the station through the turnstyle. She was wearing super high, super thin heels that ended in a little point. I marveled at her ability to walk in them. Then she fell down the stairs, catching herself just before she tumbled completely head over high heels. Twice. Embarrassed, she explained to the (mostly male) onlookers that her shoes had just been resoled and she was not used to walking on them. No one looked convinced.

A similar heart attack-inducing incident took place while I was out with Future Sister-in-Law (FSIL) last month. The extra long pointy toe of her shoes got caught in the hem of her extra long pants, causing her to fall down the stairs while I looked on helplessly. As the idiotic trend for super long pants continues, these incidents can happen to anyone. However, there is no need for women to tempt the gods of tripping any further by wearing such ridiculous high heeled and/or pointy-toed shoes.

The morals of these stories are: a) Husband cracks me up and I adore him, and b) I do not understand how women can constantly endanger themselves by wearing pointy-toed high heels that squeeze their feet constantly and cause them to fall down stairs. It is silly to go out of your way to buy uncomfortable footwear when you can have a perfectly miserable experience in something sensible!