Datebook: Friday, August 18th ~ 2006

So here is the 1000 dollar question.

What are we going to do about their feet?
I know, I know, we can ignore this for most of the year.

I have learned the ‘quick glance and avert’ method to get through it most of the time, like after the shower, or first thing in the morning. But, come flip flop weather we have to live with it constantly, unless you are the mother of my daughter’s BFF—her daughter wears flip flops twelve months straight, so she never has a break.

That’s right, we pay thousands for those costumes, thousands for those smiles, and at least a thousand for those skates—custom I might add—that hide all the distortions they are creating. The blisters heal, the scabs eventually form, well, other scabs.

But, in between, what about those hideous carbuncles, those shiny bunions that look like sixth toes! Those rolled and bunched calluses that look like small bonsai trees. What are we going to do about those?

I’m afraid there may be nothing we can do at this point. Although it is a rare sighting, have you looked at feet of female coaches? Well, don’t. Not directly anyway. Turn you head slightly and use your peripherals.

On a few occasions I have gone with my daughter when she wanted to get a pedicure—typically before a big dance at school. This has really taken courage.

Most of the shops are run by immigrants who do not speak English as a first language. As soon as my daughter’s feet hit the water, the comments flow. I can’t understand them, but in the course of forty minutes everyone has filed by to take a gander at the tootsies bumbling in the water like witches brew. My daughter is unaware, blissfully reading a magazine and having a chair massage while the pedicurist tries to decide if she has to put polish on the lump growing out of the side of her foot.

I signal ‘no’ to her and let her see the twenty dollar bill that will be her tip if she can keep a pleasant look on her face as she works around the gnarling.

Yes, Lake Placid had beautiful scenery as long as you don’t look down.

Seeing 400 sandal clad, bare, skater feet is not for the feint of heart.

Occasionally, tourists will pass a group of competitors on their way to the rink. (Moms are always trailing behind with costume bags and water so we hear the comments).

“Oh my, there must be a podiatrist’s convention in town. Did you see their feet?”

“I know, poor dears. I guess they wear all that make-up to keep people from looking at their mutated feet. They are very brave!”

Eventually we are going to have to talk to someone about this deformity or we are all going to be on Dr. Phil in 10 years answering for it. (Well, I guess everyone but Charlie White’s parents. As the girls have deemed him “perfect”, his feet have probably come through this with nary a carbuncle.)

Until then, we do what we can. Lake Placid brought new ideas for competitions.

“Mom, someone threw socks to us on the ice today.”

“Really. They must think your feet get cold!”

Mombo # 9