While everyone else in the world is returning from BlogHer and waxing poetic about the people and the city and the knowledge and the experience, I am just wishing I had some—any, really—artistic ability. The two things I wish to share with you really require visual aids, but lord knows I can’t even draw a straight line. So instead I will have to try that whole PAINT THE PICTURE WITH WORDS thing even though I suspect it will be insufficient.
The first thing I need to tell you about is how excited I get when I go somewhere that requires pretty shoes. We all know I like pretty shoes, yes? And yet here at home I mostly wear… no shoes at all. (I’m a conundrum, inside an enigma, wrapped up in lazy.) I do have a few (ahem) pairs of good-looking fancy-schmancy heels, though, and I love wearing them when the opportunity presents itself. I brought two pairs of platform heels and commenced wearing them.
I looked great. (Also: modest!) Let’s face it, everyone looks good with their feet bent in such a way that the attached calves look thinner and stronger and also somewhat magical for continuing to work given the angle of the ankle. Whatever.
I wore heels starting on Thursday evening and by Friday afternoon I noticed that my feet were looking… shall we say… a wee bit puffy. “That’s weird,” I thought. I figured my feet were being delicate flowers and protesting my pretty shoes. I found an hour or so to put my feet up and drink a ton of water, and that helped, and I put my heels back on for the evening, whereupon my feet swelled up again. But when i got up on Saturday morning my feet were fine, so I put on the OTHER pair of heels and set about my day, but by shortly after lunch my feet were TWICE as swollen as they’d been the previous day. At this point I had become a little concerned.
By mid-afternoon I was able to sneak back to my hotel room and put my feet up again, and at this point i had to admit defeat. I headed out Saturday night in my nice clothes and the flip-flops I’d worn on the plane (fancy). Sunday (yesterday) I traveled home, wearing the same flip-flops, and by this point it was clear that my feet were swelling any time I didn’t have them propped up AND that I was experiencing intermittent numbness and HEY, you don’t realize how much you rely on your feet until they start going all wonky.
I would never take a picture of my swollen, deformed feet (Hi, my name is Mir, and I am actually a 400-lb, 100-year-old diabetic, as evidenced by the horror that has become my feet), but rest assured that if I thought I could draw it for you, I’d show you the delight that is feet imprinted with criss-crossed straps from pretty but possibly deadly shoes. Alas, I cannot.
This morning I waited forever at my doctor’s office to be told that probably I just have swollen feet (helpful!), but then I gave them a bunch of blood because apparently they want to be sure I’m not in kidney failure or anything. Because maybe kidney failure can cause… numb feet? I don’t know. [There’s your motto for 2014, BlogHer! No charge! BlogHer 2014: Where The Women Develop Mysterious Kidney Failure Due To Cute Shoes.] Needless to say, I am currently propped up with elevated feet and a giant bottle of water by my side and also the conviction that I’m probably dying. (I think it’s good that I’m not a hypochondriac, don’t you?)
The OTHER thing I wish I could draw for you is much less disgusting, although arguably more annoying.
My flight TO Chicago was only about half full, so I was in a row of three where I was at the window and someone else was on the aisle. We had the middle seat as a buffer zone and all was well. My flight home FROM Chicago, though, was packed to the gills, and a young woman with a son who looked about 5 or so came down the aisle where I was sitting at directed her son to sit next to me. Okay, that’s fine. I was at the window, he was in the middle, and she sat on the aisle.
You know me—I like kids. Heck, I love kids. Kids are great. I actually had this fleeting thought of how great it was that they were sitting next to me, because some people seem to believe that small children don’t belong in public and/or should be completely silent, and I am a pretty good pick for the person to sit your kid next to because I’m a fellow mom, I get it, etc. And this little boy was adorable.
The picture I would draw, though… you know how a toddler in a queen or even king size bed can somehow, magically, expand to fill all available space? Remember those days when a child would invade your bed in the wee hours and you’d awaken to find yourself clinging to the edge for dear life, because Toddlerzilla had somehow grown a dozen more elbows and splayed out on the diagonal and taken up the entire mattress? That’s what this little boy did in the middle seat, EXCEPT HE ONLY OVERFLOWED ONTO ME. There was a wide buffer zone between him and his mother—who, it must be noted, paid zero attention to him—while this kid was practically in my lap. He took up the entire armrest (despite weighing maybe 45 pounds) and his pointy elbow caught my arm and ribs over and over, stopping its jabbing vibrations only when he triumphed in Angry Birds and threw his little fists in the air and clocked me in the head, instead. He folded one leg up underneath him and first his shoe, then most of his calf crossed the line between our seats and kicked me repeatedly.
I waited with as much patience as I could muster for his mother to notice. I cleared my throat a couple of times. Finally after about the 20th collision of some part of his body and mine, I leaned down and cheerfully said, “Could you maybe not put your foot up here?” At this, his mother’s head whipped around, and I added, “I’m sure he’s not kicking me on purpose, but…” and waited for the inevitable “Oh, I’m so sorry, honey, move over here.” Instead, she gave me a very dirty look, then told him to put his foot down.
Three seconds later, no exaggeration, it was back. Kick, kick, kick.
The flight from Chicago isn’t that long, so I didn’t have to kill anyone, despite two hours of Spiderman-flattening myself against the plane’s wall to minimize how much of my body my young friend could accidentally batter. His mother never said another word to him about all of his collisions with me, but I did love that at one point he was kicking the seat in front of him and she told him to stop doing that. Great, except there was no one sitting in that seat.
Eh, these are the minor inconveniences of traveling, right? Mysterious ailments and rowdy airplane seatmates? I guess they are. Sorry for the lack of illustrations, anyway.
Why are you not sending me pictures of these pretty shoes for shoe friday?
Maybe because my feet were oozing out the sides like molten play-doh? ;)
There. Now, THAT is a word-painted picture.
Except, no thank you.
LOL.. OMG… that’s better than a picture, those words right there. You have enough writing talent to cover the visual :-)
I randomly get burrito foot for no apparent reason. It’s especially awkward when it’s only in one foot. Sometimes it goes away over night, sometimes it takes a few days. Sometimes, when it happens at work while I’m wearing slides, my foot will be half puffy and half normal, which is a scary sight indeed.
I might have elbowed or kicked the kid back… ok I wouldn’t have ACTUALLY done that, but thinking about it would have made me feel better. =)
My one and only pair of fancy schmancy shoes are a pair of mini-wedge sandals by Croc!
I have to walk carefully in them, 2.25 inch wedge is a high heel for me after years of sneakers and Merrill slide-ons.
I hope you de-swell quickly and maybe karma will happen to that woman and her boy on their next flight . . .
Those are two-hour shoes! After two hours, your puppies should be screaming for relief. But they are very, very purdy!!!!
ALWAYS check for kidney failure. Or, you know, just take your blood pressure.
But at least you had fun and looked awesome, right?!
I’m sorry, I would have made it known that the kid need to stay within his boundaries or momma would be switching places. Maybe you should have asked to sit in the empty chair in front of you. :)
I’m very delicate (ahem), so I’d have probably repeatedly said , “Ow!” every time the kid whomped me once it was clear his mother wasn’t going to handle it. Hard to ignore that, I would hope.
But then, I’ve been wrong about people before so…
About the feet? I don’t wear heels, but I’ve had that happen when I get too warm and am wearing the wrong shoes. It happens when I don’t have good support. Hopefully it’ll go away with rest, water, and elevation!!
I have a photo of your first pretty pretty shoes, but I think it is stuck in unpublished purgatory on Yappem. I feel very sad for your feet and hope that they return to their regularly scheduled size. Also, had you been wearing heels on the plane, you might have been able to stand up to go to the bathroom and wedged your heel into that mom’s feet. By accident, of course.
I feel your pain, shoe and inattentive parent-related. Sometimes, it’s not even worth it to say anything. You pick your battles. I love pretty shoes, too, and am sad I can no longer where them like I used to.
I always take and aisle seat if I can – makes it easier to escape.
Jot sure how long the flight but maybe you should be checked for DVT?
Did you speak to the kid again? For a five year old, I’d expect to need a few reminders. Or do you think it’s impolite to correct a child in front of its mother more than once? ‘Cause I cheerfully do that without blinking, since I consider myself part of the village that is raising everyone else’s kids. And I hope they pay me back by helping with mine.
Of course, you might have been distracted by your exploding feet, but it sounds like the kid was a very high level irritant.
Oh, he was a high level irritant, but his mother seemed pretty displeased by the first time I spoke to him, so I decided not to try saying anything else. My own choice to suffer in silence, I know.
You should draw it in comic form in mspaint, that would be the best. :D
Wow, I am insensitive to insensitive or rude people. I would immediately have told (not asked) the chile to stay on HIS side of the imaginary line. When he didn’t, I would have asked the lady with him to keep him off. and then I would have requested the lacy change places with the kid.
PS, I cannot comment at Work It Mom, so wanted to say sorry to see you go.
Wait, didn’t you have this weird foot thing before? I seem to recall a post about wearing heels and the resultant foot swelling. Or I could just be imagining it…
I don’t think this has happened to me before. Seems like I would remember. ;)
First of all, I would have done just as you did, and been angry at myself for not speaking up and being miserable on the flight! Secondly, my feet hurt so bad at BlogHer that they still hurt 3 days later! Stinkin’ heels! And I did not take flip-flops. Everyone knew by day 2 of BlogHer that it was my first because I was still in heels. Finally, I wish I had met you! One of my best friends has been subscribing to you forever, and I completely forgot to look for you. Next time. I’ll be in flip-flops.