About ten years ago I bought a pair of trainers. They were great, bouncy, marvellous swooshy things of Nike. I wore them a couple of times and someone called me ‘bouncy’ and that put me off. I was but a fifteen year old Superfiona worried about being too much ‘bouncy’ and not enough ‘cool’. Because, I don’t know if you know this but: ‘bouncy’ is a little too close to ‘ball’ which is a little close to ‘rotund’ and ohmygod do I look FAT in these trainers, shit?
I put them away for a decade. But, my bouncy trainers and I have recently been re-acquainted. My other trainers fell apart on the treadmill, you see…
Initially, on our re-acquaintance, my bouncy trainers were fine. A little blister on the side of my foot after running non-stop-for-an-hour but that’s okay, right? And then my toes started to hurt a little, but, fine. Run some more, break them in. And then my feet started to hurt a lot. But I worked out beyond the pain, jog jog jog on the treadmill, swish swish on the cross trainer, push on the stair climber, convinced that I just needed to break in my trainers. I never actually looked at my feet because I rarely have cause to stare at my toes -
- until now, today.
Today, I have ACTUALLY LOOKED PROPERLY AT MY FEET for the first time in about a month and: oh, my, Christ. My toes have gone purple. I have showed them to everyone who wants to look at my feet and they are all in agreement, that my toenails will probably fall off oh my god and my trainers must be too small. My poor toes have been bashing on my bouncy ill fitting trainers and now are horrifically bruised. Purple toes!
All this time I have been declining anything nice to eat, chanting ‘my body is a temple!’ But in actual fact I have been deforming my toes which means my body is probably NOT a temple after all.
My poor body, the feet of it are broken!
I have had to drink some wine and eat some chocolate to make myself feel better.
