Oh mercy, I just posted my little piggy toes on the internet.
“Come, and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastick toe.”
~John Milton, L’Allegro
I have small feet. No, really. I have ridiculously small feet compared to my height. At 5’6” I should have a larger foot. I don’t. I wear a woman’s size 7 (American). There are times, courtesy of the foot spreading phenomenon born out of pregnancy, where I push into a size 8. It’s rare. It all depends on the shoe. Or… I wear a solid boy’s size 6... 6 ½. Boy’s flip-flops are cheaper. So are the snow boots. I know.
My mother is 5’4”. She wears the same size shoe.
My cousin is shorter than my mom. Her foot is bigger than mine.
I’m the tallest woman in my office. I have the smallest foot.
You get the idea.
I also have nubby little pinky toes.
They amuse my children greatly.
Sidebar: I have a former sister-in-law who shares the same afflictions of small feet and nubby toes. In truth, her foot size is likely a teeny tiny bit smaller than mine. It’s good to not be alone.
As the mother of boys, my foot became the first “Look! My feet are the same size as mom’s!” growth measuring device. It was the summer of 2009 when I realized that, when buying new shoes for Big K (age 14 at the time), I could try the pair on my feet and be assured that they would fit him. He’s always been a little on the smaller side than most of his classmates so it was a milestone for him. Now, almost two years later, his foot is substantially larger and he is, quite literally, centimeters from finally passing me in height. The distance can no longer be measured in inches. Trust me when I say that he slides up next to me to compare… Every. Single. Day.
Little K, however, is one of the biggest kids in his class. He and Big K are five years apart in age but it was only one year later, in the summer of 2010, that Little K’s feet equaled mine in size. Woo. There was much rejoicing… on his behalf. I rolled my eyes. I then sent a Facebook message to the aforementioned former sister-in-law to warn her. Comparisons would be made when she was next visited. Mocking was inevitable.
Little K now comes up to my chin. He will be eleven this month. Big K is preparing himself for the day when his little brother becomes his bigger little brother. It’ll happen.
Until that time comes, they continue to mock my small feet and my nubby toes. The latest game? Shoving a bare foot in my face and wiggling that pinky toe independently from the rest of the toes on that foot. They can both do it. I can’t. My nubby toe doesn’t have that freedom. It’s useless. Boo.
They laugh at it.
Feet… they are worthy of mirth.
I abhor socks.
Boots are sexy.
Slippers are evil.
I always need more flip-flops.
Shoes are worn due to societal expectation…
… and sometimes thorns.