Reading The Footbed

Authoritarian Shoes? Yes. Authoritarians? No…?

First. I’m not selling anything. Seriously. Ok. Maybe I’m selling all–things-worst. Yeah. That’s good enough.

Second. I’ve always considered two parts of my body to be more important than other parts: teeth and feet. But don’t get me wrong. I don’t care if teeth are white and shinny. They just have to work and they never, never, never should be the cause of distress. Considering the year we live in and the fact that dental medicine still requires the butchering of teeth with drills and whatnot, I guess I should be glad my teeth work as well as they do.

I brush regularly and rarely have to floss–on account I have small, parted teeth. I have the feeling that finally switching to an electric toothbrush last year has actually increased my brushing efficiency. I only have one ceramic filling, three gold caps (two of which were caused by dentist error), no root-canals (knock on wood), and I have all my wisdom teeth. At almost fifty-five, I think I’ve done fairly well with my teeth.

My feet, on the other hand, is a whole ‘nother story.

So you know the question: if you had to do it again, would you do it the same?

My answer: fcuk yea! Except for a few caveats:

– I would definitely start earlier in life flipping The-Man the bird. You know, becoming worstwriter sooner, quitting, giving-up, telling wives that they’re vaginas really ain’t holy nor does their using them thangs as traps deserve social benefits or sympathy, etc. (So fcuk-you Melania #Trump and all you females that voted for her and that hair she married!)
– I also wouldn’t play contact sports
– And I probably would not hunt animals anymore, which I really do regret, even though some of them tasted mighty fine.

The most important issue not worth repeating/doing-over, though, is sports.

Even though I only played a contact sport for a few years in suburban-hell High School of my beloved & missed #Americant, to this day I’m still feeling it. Therefore, I both admire and feel sorry for professional athletes that actually make it through a (contact) sports career and can still touch their toes when they’re forty. Not to mention whether or not they can actually get out of bed instead of rolling out at forty-five. That said, I have a horrendous problem on my left heel (achilles) that is either Haglund’s deformity or a severe case of tendinitis. Although I’ve been to two doctors so far, I’ve been given little advice on what to do about my pain. One doctor was kind enough to inquire about my tolerance (of pain), adding that it will only get worse with age. Then she added that soft shoes will be part of the rest of my life. I’m convinced that the cause of this ailment that I have to endure was due to my lackadaisical acceptance of sport activity when I was young. (Then again, it did keep me out of trouble.) Although Haglund’s deformity is also hereditory, the extreme running (that I also did after I stopped playing contact sports; as a form of staying in shape) exacerbated the problem. To this day I cannot wear hard-heel shoes and most shoes I buy have to be at least one, if not one-and-a-half, size larger that my actual foot size.

If #Trump were a pair of shoes he’d be Birkenstock? Or?

No insult to Birkenstock intended.

Yes. We live in times of experimental authoritarianism and painful feet. We live in times where females, especially (something like) fifty-two percent of white, educated, married #Americant females, vote for a $hitbag man who they would otherwise (or not?) avoid like the plague. And let’s not forget the fact that we live in times where greed is the only show stopper. Is it any wonder that  consuming-to-survive constitutes greed? Indeed. But I’m off subject.

I’ve never owned a pair of Birkenstock sandals. Reason? I tried them once many, many years ago and thought them to be extremely painful to wear. I was told the discomfort had something to do with just getting used to them–and imagined after trying them that they too were like the militaristic environment that I was forced to grow up in. The military commanders of the day tried to convince me that all I had to do in order to make it with these über-house-shoes was to just get used to them. Yea. No. No thank you. 

So let’s spring forward twenty or thirty years.

My better half, knowing of my foot problems, suggested recently that we get Birkenstock because, she added, they can be kind of therapeutic. And since she also knows that I hate wood floors, which she’s made me walk on since we’ve been together and she’s the one that chooses where we live, her solution has always been house-shoes. But I hate house-shoes–and she knows it. Usually when she’s not looking, I put on thick socks instead of house-shoes. Although I used to like walking barefoot, times are a changin’ there too. And so. A few years back she bought me pair of Crocs and with a big smile handed them to me and demanded I wear them.

“They’re good for you!” she added. “And it’s unhealthy to walk around all day in your barefeet–at your age. Grow up!”

Whaaaaaa? But barefeet are cool…

There was no denying it. Nor could she avoid reality. I hated house-shoes and I rarely wore those disgusting plastic shoes she bought me. Of course, I also should add that I hate Crocs for another reason. They are typical marketing products. That is, they are a product conceptualised for money making only. Which means they are bad for feet. Real bad. 


I know. I know.

Capitalism is about money making first. But things have changed since the days Ford literally helped a country go from horse & buggy to transcontinental mobility. Am I wrong?

Ingenious smart-asses that have no room to manoeuvre in an economy and/or market on account EVERYTHING IS OWNED by the old and the sick and super-rich, they come up with ways anew to make money. Good for them, eh. Hence, Croc shoes equal no-cost to make, no need for product enhancement or advancement, push them out till people walk around in public wearing them–just as they’ve learned to walk around in public in their fcuking pyjamas. It is the new #Americant way since NAFTA/Globalisation has decimated manufacturing and all wealth has been given to the wealthy on account the poor and the middle class are stupid as fcuking rocks and keep electing money-grubbing conservatives as their representatives… blah blah blah.

The only credit I give to the Croc folks is that they new the #Americant $hit$how of greed was an impasse. And good for them. Talk about curbing the want of wealth creation. Obviously the guy that came up with Crocs earned his keep. And I hope he’s enjoying these days in the wake of (his) efforts in the comfort of his own Who Is John Galt fantasy. But to get back on subject…

To entertain my better half, who had at least three or four or five pairs of Crocs in the time I barely wore the one pair she bought me, I did give them a go. Getting rid of them recently was a godsend, though. I do not miss them. But my feet have been hurting of late because, well, she was right on one thing. I can’t keep walking around on hard, cold floors with nothing on my feet. So I gave in.

The first few days with what I like to call #Trump shoes was extremely painful. I call them #Trump shoes because, well, they really are authoritarian shoes. Unlike other shoes that fit to your feet, these Germanin constructs make your feet fit to them. The lady that sold them to me even mentioned that to break them in easier, I should wear them wet directly after a shower. Within a week I started to like them, even though they hurt. After about two months, I fell in love them. Never have my feet felt better–when in house-shoes and walking around on hard floors. Do I still have pain? Oddly, only when I take them off. My feet feel as though they are encased in something secure now. I walk on something rigid yet smooth. I tip toe while taking the trash out in something formed yet conforming. But there’s more. Did you know, dear worst-reader, that the foot-bed of Birkenstock shoes are like tea leaves? You know, as in tea-leaf reading?

As you’ll note from the pic, the dark spots on the foot-bed indicate pressure points. Obviously I still have very high arches (which is part of painful feet at my age–or so I’ve been told; my better-half’s shoes have practically no pressure points at all as she has much flatter feet). Also, I walk with most of my weight on the outside of my feet, which could be a reason for Haglund’s deformity in my left heel. And then there are those toes. I had no idear how much toes play a role in foot work/pain.

And on that note, I do die-gress.

Rant on.


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