The Bunions Conundrum.

Bunions.

Can someone tell me the point of their existence?  I’ve been blighted by these unsightly bony protrusions since I was a young child, hop-scotching in my black Woolworths elasticated plimsolls.  I used to slip them on for school and see those little lumps on the side of my feet, quietly ruining the straight line of my shoe.  Surreptitiously checking out my school friends plimsolls, they all looked straight and normal – not like mine.  Those unwelcome barnacles proclaimed to the world that my feet didn’t look like everyone elses and threatened a lifetime of wide feet and ugly shoes.  Or is that ugly feet and wide shoes?  Same thing, I suppose.

My bunions have always been there; little bumps even as I made my way squinting and screaming into this life.  Even before most people have even heard of the little bleeders, I was fully aware of their existence and the self-consciousness they had introduced into my tender, inexperienced little world.

It’s not even as if their presence was one of cause-effect.  Where’s the justice in that?

Most people look at Posh Spice and her monstrous, unrestrained bunions and think they are caused by wearing ill-fitting or ludicrously high heels.  They probably were in her case, but I was never one of those girls who tottered about in sky scraper shoes.  You were/are more likely to find me stomping down the street in kick-ass boots.  Low stacked or platform heels; anything that accommodates a wide foot.

Nobody talks about bunions being a genetic scourge.  In fact nobody talks about bunions at all.  It’s embarrassing.  An old person’s condition – crooked toes and horrible shoes.  Nobody tells you they can be bloody painful as well as unsightly.

I loved DM’s in my youth, as they covered a multitude of bunion-related sins.  I still wear similar boots now when out and about, but woman can’t live by DM’s alone.  There are occasions where I’m forced to go against type and wear ‘dressy up’ clothes.  My usual default ‘fuck off’ boots can’t always cut it with a fitted outfit and at that point, the dreaded ‘dress’ shoes have to be pulled out of the back of the shoe cupboard (yes I have one)!

Think of the Incredible Hulk attempting to jam his massive clod hoppers into Tinkerbell’s court shoes.  That’s how I imagine myself when trying to push my feet into those elegant pointy-toed instruments of torture.

Over the years and despite my sensible shoes, I’ve monitored the carbuncles grow and change the appearance of my feet.  My big toe hasn’t yet attained a 90 degree deflection from where it should be, but what does a person do to slow or stop the ravages of these blighters, when you had nothing to do with their creation in the first place?

Has it got an automatic end point dictated by my genes?  Can I retrain my big toes to come back to their native positions?  Is there anything other than surgery that can be done to manage this affliction?

The only choice I have is to carry on the way I have all my life…..maybe with a cheeky Google search to scare myself into believing I’ll never walk again if I underwent corrective surgery.  In the meantime, I suppose the time has come to seek advice and hopefully get some clarity on this menace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Replies to “The Bunions Conundrum.”

  1. Apparently bunions can be hereditary – my mum has bunions & she used to try and squeeze her feet into “winkle pickers” (pointy stilettos) – fortunately neither my sister, myself nor my daughter has inherited the condition.

    1. You’re lucky Linda! I got them off my dad – in fact my and my dads feet are spitting images of each other. Even the bunions. My poor niece has inherited them too. Looks like they may be a family legacy 🙁
      Thanks for your comment. Glad you enjoyed my offering.

Leave a Reply