Do Shoes Make the Woman?
When I learned my trademark shoe was destroying my feet, I did what anyone would: question my entire identity
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My identity crisis began with pain in my right foot. I hadn’t done anything particular to injure it so I didn’t take the pain very seriously at first, but as time went by, it got worse. At first the top of my foot hurt, but then the pain spread to the outside edge, to my arch, and then to the base of my little toe. Walking on uneven surfaces was painful, and walking downhill was excruciating. Accepting the fact that at 39 years old, I had arrived at an age where I could hurt myself doing nothing, I gave in and went to a podiatrist.
The doctor was young and energetic. He told me his philosophy was to treat all patients like elite athletes. That sounded good to me. After a thorough examination, he arrived at the diagnosis of peroneal tendonitis, noting that I also displayed chronic ankle instability, cavus (high-arched) foot, and equinus (limited upward bending in the ankle joint).
“What shoes do you normally wear?” he asked.
I nodded with satisfaction at the patent-leather clogs gleaming on the floor beside me, shoes that proved I took footwear seriously.
He groaned, shook his head, and said, “Those shoes are bad for your feet, your legs, and your back.”
Undaunted by the look of horror on my face, he said, “What you’ve got to do is go to Sneakerama and tell them you need a neutral heel-posting eight-millimeter drop shoe.”
Sneakers! My hatred of sneakers goes back to my 12 years of Catholic school. Sneakers were not allowed with my school uniform. Sneakers were only for gym class—my least favorite class, because I was always picked last for every game. Sneakers were for activities I sucked at. Who needed them?
“I can’t wear sneakers to work,” I said.
“Well, with your foot, you really want something that laces. You want something with a bit of a heel but softer and more flexible than your clogs.”
There I was, a woman under doctor’s orders to get new shoes — Permission to shop! Have fun, girl!—and instead of even the faintest glimmer of excitement, all I felt was resistance…
