Feet-Flop Freak Out
This post is from guest blogger, YumYucky
“Feet-Flop Freak Out?”
I have Flintstone Feet Syndrome. They’re square, semi-wide, and terribly inappropriate for the sleek and sexy shoes all the stylish chicks wear. I tried to squeeze into a pair, but my toes howled all night and retaliated with pain inflicted to the balls of my feet. In another pair, my feet did pretty good until I damn near cracked my ankle from lack of high heel training. I tried to look cute on a busy street corner (no, don’t get the wrong idea), but twisted my ankle and fell off the curb. It was a complete fail considering all I wanted to do was cross the street.
Not only that, but my feet are neglected by loved ones. My husband apparently can’t regulate his own hand strength. His foot rubs make my feet feel like they’re being squashed in a vice (no thanks, dear). Instead, I resort to bribing my kids for foot rubs. It costs me $2-$3 per session. Begging never works. No cash. No foot rub. It really sucks.
I got a bum rap when God handed out feet. They simply don’t conform to the standards of perfection I desire. But isn’t it unrealistic and foolishly absurd to require perfection from any part of my body?
Despite the disadvantages of Flintstone Feet Syndrome, they kick ass in sneakers and can run, and jump, and sprint. I don’t mind if I can’t comfortably wear strappy high-heeled sexiness. My feet are pretty damn cool. I like them just fine.