My mother had old feet. When I was a child I thought my mother was old. All parents were old. Some were ancient. She wasn’t ancient, just old. She liked to go barefoot (a gene her daughter did not inherit even as a child). Going barefoot takes a toll on feet.
She had thick toenails and the big toes were yellowish. She needed a hacksaw to trim them. There were corns and she always wore those corn pads. Always. Even holidays. I don’t ever remember her putting polish on them although she did polish her fingernails. I never wanted my mom’s feet.
My feet were smaller and whiter, so very white. They stay white when you wear sneakers or shoes all the time. My nails were normal and I didn’t have bunions jutting out to make them look distorted. I liked my feet. A dab of polish and some peep toe heels and they were happy. (Gosh, I wish I could wear heels again!)
Yesterday I woke up and somehow magically overnight my feet got old. I don’t have the nail fungus that makes them thick and yellow but the nails themselves are cupping and not lying flat. I have callouses that need work. I may need her hacksaw. I am convinced that those intergalactic invaders that come and insert probes into people came and stole my feet leaving me with cadaver feet.
Or…it could be my fault. Because of the pandemic I wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything so I didn’t take care of my feet. No polish, rare utilitarian trims, tucked inside walking shoes most of the time. They weren’t feeling the love and I’m paying the price.
This isn’t the first time I noticed aging overnight. With the absence of the gym my upper arms deflated into a flabby mess. Fortunately I’m thin so they don’t flap enough for take-off but there is enough to get some velocity going.
Aging is not for sissies or vain people. Do they even make peep toe walking shoes? Looks like my afternoon is booked!