Walking in My Shoes

How it happened? I’m not sure. But I blame South Beach. Yes, I blame the entire southernmost area of the City of Miami Beach for its ridiculous double standard when it comes to women’s footwear.

Blister in the sun
Actual photo of the bottom of my foot.

An evening out in non-sensible shoes created several small, but manageable, blisters on my foot. And the next morning I went for a swim in the ocean, as I erroneously thought it was a wonderful way to cure a hangover and disinfect my lesions.This part of the story I blame on my grandmother for convincing me that the ocean cures everything from a sinus infection to an ingrown toenail. And maybe it did in her day.

But this was a new day. A day when instead of waking up with a fully functioning, back-to-normal foot, it was an oddly swollen and warm-out-of-the-microwave foot. It also happened to be the day when this news story broke:

No. I was not in Sarasota. And no, I do not like the taste or texture of oysters. But yes, I am a hypochondriac. And so to the urgent care I went.


After a tetanus shot, a foot scrub (not the spa kind), a lesson in walking with crutches and the first course of pain meds and antibiotics, I felt better about my chances of surviving this thing.

The shoes, on the other hand, are serving a life sentence in the back of my closet for attempted murder.

Originally posted on Relativity in 2014.

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