Blisters

What's worse? Blisters or the cure??!!

I have a pair of stupid Payless sandals that I should have thrown in the garbage when I packed summer clothes away last fall. The winter months gave me a case of stupid shoe amnesia and I wore the sandals yesterday to show off my orange-polished pedicure. I would have been fine, if I put on a pair of sneakers before I did the 1 1/2 mile walk there and back to a meeting last night.

I realized I was in trouble about 3/4 of the way to my meeting. I had a babysitter at home and a limited amount of time so turning around seemed ridiculous. I was also pissed. These sandals are not high heels. On the contrary, they are ultra flat. They are leather thong sandals with a bottom part that has no give whatsoever. It's like strapping boards to your feet and then going on a hike.

By the time the meeting was over, I knew I would be in trouble. I didn't know anyone at the meeting well enough to ask for a ride. The only familiar faces were leering men who I didn't want to be alone in a car with. It was bad enough that the meeting consisted of two incredibly boring speakers filling up an entire hour. I'm talking BORING--the kind of orators who can suck the life out of a perfectly interesting story. I will never, ever get that hour back and, in addition to the money I had to pay the babysitter, that meeting cost me the freedom of walking without wincing. Grrrr. I am giving myself major brownie points, though, for making it to the end. I rewarded myself with a Twizzler (ok...3 Twizzlers) from the snack table. The whole no sugar thing has been a big challenge as of late.

So, I walked home, calling friends along the way in the hopes that telephone chatting would distract me from the pain. It did, sort of. I also rested on a wall near teenagers hanging out on a wall across the street. It was funny and brought me back to the days in Junior High when I would walk barefoot with my torn Levis dragging on the ground, tugging my tube top up over my flat chest and washing off my blue powder eyeshadow before I got home.

But I digress.

When I arrived home and relieved the babysitter, I put my feet on ice...literally....in the hopes that it would somehow prevent the inevitable blisters. No such luck. This morning, I woke up, put my feet on the floor and yelled. I have very large, very sensitive blisters on the balls of both feet. Have you every tried to NOT walk on the balls of your feet? These blisters are so humongous. Seriously. And I'm not just saying that like how arachnophobes I know always seem to come upon spiders as big as their hands. These blisters are the size of oranges...ok, plums, ok, kumquats. They hurt and that sucks.

It's funny. I have an easier time coping with a chronic, potentially debilitating neurological disease than with blisters. I have literally been whining about it all day.

Oh well. Live and learn. I'm going to go home, throw the evil sandals away, give Ruby and Zane a snack when John drops them off wired and hungry, get them into their jammies and bed, and then soak my feet in Epsom salts while I watch the new Grey's Anatomy and Lost.