Posted by: das Mopf | February 4, 2009

Thank you.

Thanks for carrying me through the last twenty years. Thank you for being as supportive as anyone could wish for. Thanks for going everywhere with me. Thank you for enduring pain you didn’t even deserve. Thank you for never complaining. Thank you for being reliable. Thank you for all the torture you got through.

Now, who’s being thanked? My mom? My dad? My best friends?
– All wrong. I’d actually like to thank my feet. It just struck me a few minutes ago, how wonderful it is to have reliable feet. From the moment I took my first step, they were there for me (I blame the falling down on my then wobbely legs). Here’s what we’ve gone through (Uh. No pun intended)…
… trodding on a bee at the age of six.
… stepping into a pincushion at the age of approximately ten, two of the needles sticking about half a centimetre into my bale.
… countless mosquito stings.
… more things fallen on them.
… and even more nudged toes.
… a bright violet spot on my ankle where Paolo just recently kicked me accidentally.
… painted toe nails and failed pedicures.
… a strained middle foot from walking weirdly.
… one kind of permanent clavus.
… blisters beyond countability.
… (too) small shoes.
… new shoes.
… no shoes at all, which gave me the three biggest blisters I ever had, plus the first bloody blister in my life.

So the next person to tell me that my toes are somewhat bent… better has a good excuse for that.

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