A
few days ago, I returned home from cleaning up litter along a section of the
Seward Highway. I unlaced and took off
my hiking boots and thick socks, then gingerly removed the tape and lamb’s wool
from my feet.
I
stood up to take off my dirty jeans and happened to glance down at my feet that
were now clad in black crew socks. I
was stunned at the outline of my right foot.
It tapered to a point!
That
foot, I thought, would fit perfectly in the high-heeled shoes I wore fifty years ago when I
was employed in white collar work in Anchorage.
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| Not my shoes. An internet photo. |
Suddenly
I remembered an old Chinese woman I saw in Tiananmen Square in Beijing,
China. I noticed her because she was hobbling,
inch by inch, across the flat paving squares.
The sneakers she wore appeared normal, but something was amiss. Her
progress appeared to be a painful one, and I turned to my guide
and—discreetly—asked her about the woman.
“Foot
binding,” was her answer. “It is no
longer done, but many of the older women have that problem.”
Once
the exclusive fashion of the rich and idle ladies, foot-binding soon spread to
the masses in China. It was a symbol of
status, though it was excruciatingly painful and crippled generations of women. There seemed to be two outcomes of foot
binding, with one being to wrap the toes under the foot so the foot came to a
point, and the second being to wrap the foot so that the arch bent up into a “U”
shape, with the foot called a Lotus foot, no more than four inches long!!!
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| This foot was bound to make a pointed foot. The toes were broken to facilitate this practice. |
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| A Lotus foot. |
And
I thought I had foot problems!
We’re
all familiar with the body alterations that various peoples around the
world have practiced in the name of fashion or religion, such as inserting
larger and larger objects to stretch an ear lobe or lip, or adding rings to
stretch a neck.
Why
on earth people did such things was beyond my ability to comprehend when I was
younger.
Well, it still is beyond
comprehension, but my point is that I unknowingly conceded to the same ritual body
alteration by putting my feet into those high-heeled shoes every working
day. They were the cultural norm for that time.
I
walked miles in those shoes. Fifteen
block to work and fifteen blocks home before I got a car. I have no idea why it didn’t occur to me to
wear flat shoes during those commutes. Then, when I worked as a newspaper
reporter, more miles as I covered my beat as a reporter on the courts.
When
I finally moved out of Anchorage for a simpler, more pastoral life in the
country, I left the high heels behind and haven’t worn any since.
A
few years ago, I trekked 28 miles of the Resurrection Trail with a 40 lb. pack. It was torture on my feet.
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| I used paper tape, but it didn't help much. |
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| That white stuff is tape residue. |
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| Blisters and tape residue and very tender feet. |
Every
summer for the past eleven years, I have
picked up litter along the highway, often cleaning fifty miles of roadside on
both sides.
My
friend Carlene, who unknowingly saved my life ten years ago, once again came to
the rescue and saved my life again after hearing my frequent foot complaints.
“Lamb’s
wool,” she recommended. “It’s what
ballerinas use so they can stand on their toes.”
I
couldn’t find lamb’s wool anywhere in Anchorage, and still can’t. She sent me several packages and they was a
godsend. I began ordering those little
3/8 ounce packages online and used paper tape to secure the wool in needed
places.
This
is what I have to do to my feet so I can walk those miles:
My
feet still hurt. Bunions from wearing
those pointy-toed heels have forced the big toes inward with a large bony
protuberance at the base of the big toe.
That leaves no room for the second toes, which now climb up and over,
messing up the nail beds.
Because the feet are now deformed, and because I am almost always walking on slopes, the outside of the feet are very sensitive to pressure.
But
lamb’s wool has made it possible to walk distances with reasonable comfort, so
you can imagine how delighted I was when I went to the post office and received
an item that I’d ordered online.
A
one pound package of lamb’s wool!
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| Lamb's wool! A whole pound of heavenly lamb's wool. |
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| Soft, fluffy, foot-saving lamb's wool. |
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| No more parceling out bits of wool from a 3/8 ounce package. No more saving used scraps, hoping they can be used again. The wool can be washed, but it packs into a tight wad and does not cushion as well.. |
Now
if Walmart will just restock their supply of paper tape, I’ll be set. If not, I’ll be ordering that online, too.
But
I will never, never reach the depths of mutilation that some people are doing
to themselves these days, all in the name of cultural fashion and fad:
PS: Thanks, Carlene, for saving my life TWICE!