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I went to get some running shoes yesterday, and I wish I had thought to bring along my camera so I could document for you, my gentle readers, a truly revelatory moment in my lifetime.
They had me stand on one of those foot-pressure monitor things. (If they have a name, I don't know it. Google doesn't seem to either.) If you're familiar with the wet footprint test, it's like that, only with a big fancy screen and red lights telling where you put all the weight on your feet. It will also tell you about your arches, and if you pronate, and blah blah blah.
Wanna know what it told me?
I have extra-wide feet. A simple 'wide' won't do for me. No. I have fucking Sasquatch feet. Fred Flintstone feet, with higher arches.
And, you know, four more toes. But now that I know I have extra wide feet that require men's running shoes, I'm considering losing a few.
Ok, so I've looked at my feet my whole life, and honestly I've never thought they were that bad. I must not have too much of a problem with them if they're my photo up in the corner of my blog, right? So why do I feel like somebody came in the middle of the night and gave me MAN FEET?
I need to get a grip. It does help to know that my friend Bridget seems to not actually have a left foot. I call her "Flamingo" now.
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It would make my week if someone out there - anyone (except Marc, as he already knows) - got what I am referencing in my title. Do you know? Be the first to tell me in the comments, and I'll grant... a request. That's a little odd and vague, I know, but I did it last year so at least you know my crazy is a traditional thing. What I mean is that I'll post a picture of something you request, or perform some silly antic if you like, or write glowing reviews of you for all to see. You can name it. All you have to do is tell all of the class what I'm talking about with my title. Do be specific, please.
Or, you know, nobody will know or care or be reading, and I'll get over that someday. Maybe.
Because you just might get it. ON MARCH 2ND. A full two months after you wanted it. And on a day when you children are sick, one with a lovely ear infection and draining motherfucking eyes, so they CAN'T go play in your pretty fluffiness, thanks, though I'm sure our imaginary snowman would have been beautiful. Also, how much does it suck to have to ask other kids not to sled in your awesome sledding yard because your poor pitiful children will look out the windows and cry and YOU WILL FEEL LIKE THE WORST MOTHER EVER? A lot, is how much that sucks.
Yes, be careful what you wish for.
At least I've got good help. I hear that's hard to find. (He shoveled while also sick - because, you know, it always ends up that I'm the only healthy one around here. Anyway, whatta man. Love you, baby.)
