Oh how the mighty are fallen – I have to succumb to Crocs.
My fashion fairy is feeling a bit sick lately, following a checkup at the podiatrist.
He has ordered me into Crocs.
Ohmigod, I hate them. I really hate them. But he says, and no joke, that they will be the best thing for my feet.
For a few weeks now I’ve been having some pain in my left big toe joint, which I thought might be the beginning of arthritis, and along with the fact that I now don’t seem able to wear even a modest heel – say 2 inches – without the soles of my feet burning like hell, I thought I’d go back for another checkup. It was overdue anyway.
One look at me standing on his little perspex mirror thingy and ‘pieds valgus’ was his verdict – flat feet. Oh what joy.
It’s genetic, he tells me, and he ought to be right. If memory serves, my flat feet as a child were the reason my mum sent me to ballet. I thought that problem was gone for good, but apparently not.
Along with the Crocs, I now have to wear orthotic soles in my ordinary shoes, and will be measured up for them on Thursday. Well, what could be more sexy than a nice pair of arch supports? My left leg is also shorter than my right, hence my new nickname from friend T: ‘Freak’. (I suggested Gimpy, which rhymes with how I feel about it.)
I should be grateful, of course, and I am. My sister is now battling back and hip problems due to years of misalignment, so I want to get this sorted out if I can. The flat feet are the reason that I’m pronating onto my left big toe, which is the reason that it’s hurting, and down the line I’m looking at wearing my left hip out twice as fast as my right if I don’t nip this in the bud now.
So, I am frantically online, boning up about the right kind of shoes to wear, and weighing up the benefits of Birkenstocks versus Crocs versus Fly-Flots. A whole new area for me to explore.
I’d better make the most of it, hadn’t I?.