Best Foot Forward

"Ah, I do not wear ze shoes because... zey make-a me fall down." -- Agador Spartacus, from The Birdcage

I fell asleep on the living room (read: uncomfortable) couch at about 9PM last night, and, as a result, I didn't get to accomplish any of the necessary tasks to ensure a smooth morning routine. Thus, I woke up with a chill and a sore back on said couch at 7AM, swore, then scrambled to get ready for work. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, pulled my curls up into a bun. A little eyeliner, a lot of red lipstick, eyeglasses, undergarments, deodorant, a spritz of Lanvin Rumeur. Breakfast, coffee, and earrings could wait until I got to work, but clothing couldn't.

I never got around to ironing before I dozed off, so I pulled my one un-creased pair of dress pants off the drying rack and ran back to my bedroom to put them on. I was halfway there when I felt it: a scrape at first, then a jolt of pain radiating up my leg. I sat on the edge of my bed and lifted my foot, revealing a massive splinter buried deep in the dancer's callus on my big toe. Since I wasn't about to perform foot surgery on myself in my frantic, underwear-clad state, I slapped a bunion pad over the splinter, pulled on a pair of dress socks, and decided to hope for the best.

I slipped into my pants and my favorite pair of flats, but I didn't even have to move to realize that my cuffs would clean the sidewalks with every step. Wearing a skirt was out of the question owing to my socks, so I instead opted to stick to the pants and wear most comfortable pair of high heels with them.

However, because of the socks, my most comfortable pair of high heels didn't fit. I tried on pair after pair -- and trust me, I have a LOT -- and they all felt uncomfortably snug. Finally, I tried on my super-soft, super-comfortable pointy-toed black pumps, which I only wear on my water-retention days because the leather has stretched so much that they tend to fall off when I walk, and they fit beautifully.

My choice of footwear functioned perfectly in the house, but when I tried to ease into my usual speedwalk en route to the subway, I knew I was in for a disatrous day. I had to walk slowly and hold my feet very stiffly to avoid falling head-first out of my shoes, and if I let my guard down for even a second, one or both shoes would fly off my feet. Despite the added bulk of the bunion pad, I lost my right shoe approximately once every hundred feet and my left shoe half as frequently. The walk to work from the subway was even worse; little old men and massively pregnant women moved faster than I could. I thought I'd be okay, though -- I had a day of desk work ahead of me, and as anyone who has ever taken Fluid Biomechanics with Dr. Kevin Costa knows, a desk-bound woman's feet swell massively over the course of eight hours.

Wishful thinking, yeah. The morning passed into afternoon and I still couldn't move correctly. Aside from the fact that my shoes felt strange, I felt like crap without the ability to bounce and sway my way around the city. I was still moving slowly and stiffly when I arrived home at 6:15 -- far later than usual because I was walking so damned slowly. Dad was outside smoking a cigar when I approached.

"Why are you walking like Frankenstein?" he asked. I told him. Ten minutes later, I had my foot up on the kitchen table as Dad squinted at it through his magnifying glasses. I glanced away for a moment, and when I focused on my father again, he was raising a very pointy pair of scissors to my toe with a manic glint in his eye. I don't remember much about the following half-hour, but I no longer have a splinter in my toe.