They look so
harmless, delicate even. They’re long and
slim at the heel and gently widening towards the toes. They’re carefree toes,
toes that clearly don’t need to conform to "society’s" narrow definition of what girly feet must be. Yet, what fine female
feet they are. Sometimes they’re tipped
in dainty pink, other times fiery red, they like the pretty colors. They’d look great in the sand, or on the
grass with a daisy 'tween the toes. Happy
feet, they are. They look so sweet and yet …. They’re apparently MONSTERS.
Yep. I have MONSTER feet. I have GIANT, drag queen feet. Sure, I’ve
always sensed my feet weren’t small but I never realized they were “super-sized”
until a teen me read about the affliction in a women’s mag. “I Have Man Sized Feet!” the column headline
declared. “Poor woman,” I thought. “Must be terrible.” So I read
the fair lady’s lament. She – gasp – wore
a size 10 shoe! “Hmmm,” I thought. This manly woman has size 10 feet, and I
have ... size 10 feet. Either I was
abnormal or the writer was abnormal for thinking she was
abnormal. I wasn’t sure which, but the
article about this poor “outcast” with her giant “man-sized” feet disturbed me
so much that I penned my first and only letter to a women’s mag. It was offensive, I wrote, to suggest that a
size-10 foot was manly. I don’t think my letter
was ever published – hell, it was probably never read – but I’ve been acutely
foot-conscious ever since. I eventually accepted, even embraced
my size 10s. Until they grew into size
11s. Suddenly I’d traveled into a new
dimension, a dimension where few shoe manufacturers dare to go.
I suppose I’m
just genetically blessed. My father
wears a size 15 shoe. Thanks to dad, I
get to feel like a freak every time I shop for shoes: I walk into the mall and
find the most adorable shoes EVER. “OMG,
Hot!” I think. “I wonder if they have these in a size … oh who am I kidding?” I try to not get my hopes up. I usually wander through the displays searching
for the biggest shoe I can find.
“OMG, what a
big SHOE!,” I think, turning it over gleefully.
Size 9. Alrighty. “Somewhere in this store,” I assure myself,
“there has GOT to be a pair of GIANT shoes!”
It is no longer about HOT shoes,
or CUTE shoes but about GIANT shoes … and so I search for the elusive megashoe. Finally I see a MONSTER shoe for my MONSTER
feet. I ask for its mate and I feel
overcome with joy. Though it's usually a
pair of extra-wide moccasins with sheepskin lining, I feel victorious … until I
try on the monstrosities. Then, I know
why they were on clearance for 99 cents.
So I take my
search online. I pull up ebay and type
hopefully: “Size 11 women’s shoes.” The
moccasins have made their way onto that site too. Thankfully, there’s a bigger
selection than that. All I have to do is
type in “drag queen shoes.” Suddenly I
find pumps, platforms, goth boots, all the sexy shoes I’ve long longed for. “Are you a diva in disguise?” one vendor
asks. “Tired of looking for heels, shoes and boots that fit your personality
but not your larger feet?” YES! “Well look no more...” Suddenly my giant feet aren’t so giant. Heck, a mere size 11? That’s downright
dainty.
OK, so
they’re not dainty. But they’re not monsters.
They are not abnormal behemoth giant defective manly feet – no matter
what “society” tells me. They are beautiful, feminine feet and I adore
them. Disagree? Keep it to
yourself. You don’t want to be on the
wrong end of a monster shoe.
