Sole Sapping

I once had beautiful feet.

The rest of my body may never have resembled David, but Michelangelo would have been inspired by my lowest extremities. The arches were handsome, the toes perfectly formed, and the proportions ideal.

Today I make podiatrists weep. Decades of abuse have ravaged the old dogs. I’ve snapped metatarsal bones. Nails, rocks and other sharp objects have scarred my soles. The arches are sagging.

The remaining toes have been decimated. They’re splayed and the nails grow at odd angles. My left little piggie has been broken and crushed so many times that it’s now just an immobile bit of discolored flesh wrapped around ground meat and gristle.

Darn right it hurts.