Thursday, 13 October 2011

Happy Feet

Have you ever given a thought to what makes feet happy? Maybe it's a foot rub or new shoes. Mine like being used. To walk, run and dance. Get me from A-B, other foot traffic dodged, dived and passed on the way. They're pleased to bear this physical load each and every day. Don't sit, when you can stand on your desk job, my ten toes tap in protest. Use me! they deplore. This pair have purpose. Idleness their reward when tired, not before. Where am I going with this? It's rare to discuss this mode of transport unless it concerns what they're clad in. Footwear, the fashionable accessory to buy and collect. Make your feet look good. Gain an inch or two. Has anyone ever enquired if feet really care about shoes?

This couple prefer to go bare indoors. These soles liking texture, the feel and resistance of carpet and floor. Outdoors, they don't care what they cased in provided its comfy and supportive. Toes free to wiggle about. A spring in my step. A light bounce to my gait. This duo not designed to make a grand entrance. To topple and teether in high heels. They don't want to balance at wrong angles. Who cares if her pins look longer? It's not glamorous to have my toes crushed together, or peeking out uncovered they think. The glass slipper effect, no thank you! You're not cutting off our toes to make these shoes fit. Why make us suffer when there's no need?

Yes, I know my feet rather well. They hate trying on shoes and would rather wear socks or slippers all day. Freedom to move and play. Growing up, skipping, jumping and stamping was more important. To run on wet sand, squelch in mud and splash in puddles. My red welly boots just right for the job. Refusing to take them off, I slept in them. A carefree time when someone else had the task of shoe cleaning. I watched the greats perform song and dance routines. Classic black and white, and colour reruns. Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Judy Garland. Tap dancing fascinated me. My feet wanted to move like that. Nan's kitchen, the perfect dance floor for practice. I had little respect for rooms. Later on when I fell in love with Xanadu, I'd pretend to be Olivia Newton-John and rollerboot up and down our carpeted lounge. No room was out of bounds to these boots.

As a child I learned these feet enjoy movement. Their stubborn personality on display. They will do what they want. They need no self-improvement. No shine, or razzle-dazzle of shoes. Happy when toes point and flex, point and flex, like breaking into a grin. Revealing this has pampered my soles, but do you know your own happy feet?