What I didn't mention yesterday was that the good doctor had seen it fit, after his thorough investigation of my feet, to take to them with a scalpel. Harriet the Spy had gotten a "Clue" about my callouses, all brand new since November 1st when I started this, and was going to return me to my naturally soft and supple state... "Harriet, in the office, with a knife..."
Nothing about what he did hurt at the time, though I noticed he went through two fresh scalpel blades and I had to wonder how many "layers" he was removing. It didn't occur to me he might be going too deep, and that I'd have any lingering after effects. After yesterday I felt maybe just a little mild tingling where he'd done the most invasive excavation; but this morning, my feet were raw and on fire at about three (uneven) points each, making running a rainstorm of piercing Lilliputian arrows.
I was supposed to run 3-4 miles but, at 2 miles - most of which I'd had to walk - I had to get off. I was too distracted and not sure if I might be doing more damage than good considering I have to be in decent condition for my 5 mile race on Saturday. I'll make the time up later this week.
I haven't mentioned the nasty metamorphosis my precious feet have taken since I started running. You hear about people getting black toenails and such, and thankfully that hasn't happened to me yet; but the general appearance of my feet has dramatically deteriorated and it's a bit much to get used to. I avert my eyes most of the time, frankly.
I've always had unusually cute feet. This is something that people, even strangers, frequently used to comment on - men especially. One even named his favorite toe, Madeline. I wear high heeled sandals in the summer so they're out there for the lookin'. This past summer, I was at a party and there was a gentleman there - actually a friend's ex-boyfriend, which was awkward enough in itself - but he may have had just a little bit too much to drink and spent the next 10 hours talking about my feet, and then sneaking in a "pet" when I was talking to people, looking in the other direction. Finally, unfortunately, because it's what broke the party up around 6am, he got down on his knees while I was talking to the hostess and licked my toes. The hostess freaked out and made her husband expel the guy from the apartment. You know, I personally don't understand the appeal of my feet but it seems they are - or once were - undeniably hot.
I've had exactly one pedicure now since November 1st and I spent the entire time apologizing to the woman doing it. For the past 5 years I have worn the same color polish on my toes - Essie's Sole Mates. I remember the day my colleague Sherrie walked into the office we shared and she was wearing it on her toes. I saw it and fell in love - that was my color - a mix of black, red and blue. I've never turned back; but then this December I switched to a pale, slightly opaque pink - Essie's Guchi Muchi Puchi - which I thought would stand up to abuse better, not chip or bleed unattractively into white socks, and might mask the white lines I've now got in my big toenails as a result of their getting beaten over and over again into the front of my shoes. Not sure I like it. I miss my Sole Mates.
I wouldn't say having had "cute feet" was ever really part of my core identity, but I'm surprised to notice myself missing that part of the way things were... I can only hope that my feet will get used to this new lifestyle and transition to a "sportier" look gracefully, eventually. If not, hopefully I'll at least have other parts that become more cute over time, to make up for this loss!
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