I have patellofemoral pain syndrome in my knees, tendinitis in my shoulders, my hair is turning grey, I’ve developed rosacea, and now, I have a bunionette on my foot. Gross.
Go ahead and roll your eyes, those of you who are older than me. I know you’ve been dealing with this kind of thing for years. But it’s all new to me and it sucks.
Everything on my list is a small annoyance. If I do yoga, my knees and shoulders are fine. I don’t mind the grey, and I could always dye it if I wanted to. Rosacea is pretty much just sensitive skin and I can treat it with a cheap face cream.
But now I have to deal with this damn bunionette. Yes, I’m writing an article about a bunionette.
Basically, a bunionette, or a tailor’s bunion, looks like a small bump on the outside of your foot, and what it means is that the last bone on your foot has tilted outwards while your pinkie toe has tilted inwards. If it happens on your big toe side, it’s a bunion.
The worst part about it is that I can’t wear about 15 of the 21 shoes I own.
I have a little obsession with shoes. Where I get this from, I don’t know; my mom has pointed out on more than one occasion that I didn’t learn the obsession from her.
I have eight pairs of boots, two pairs of high heels, six flats, three sandals and two runners, and I love them all. If I made more money, I would have even more pairs of shoes, and I would still love all of them.
And now I can’t wear them. Instead, I have to make an appointment with a podiatrist for orthotics.
The word “orthotics” brings up visions of ugly, clunky shoes and braces. In reality, I doubt what I’ll be prescribed will go that far; probably just inserts and a warning to avoid high heels. But somehow, I can’t see a pair of orthotically correct shoes satisfying my craving for a beautiful new pair of shoes.
My boyfriend thinks I’m crazy to wear high heels, wondering why I bother when they just hurt my feet. There’s something powerful about wearing a pair of kick-ass high-heeled boots. I’m taller and they make a satisfying sound when they strike the ground. A pair of new shoes can transform a tired outfit or change an outfit from day to night wear. They can even be works of art.
Will I be able to find shoes I love that don’t turn my foot into some twisted, mutant-looking thing? (Trust me, don’t search for images of bunions). I’m sure I will.
Bodies change. Just as I learned to adapt to my changing body as an awkward teenager, I’m learning to adapt to my body as I age. I’m only 25, so I realize I can look forward to years and years more of awkward changes, not to mention the kinds of changes that come along with child birth.
For now, though, these changes still take me by surprise, and I can’t help but feel a little sad for all those shoes I’ll never be able to wear.