Now That I Know What Bunions Actually Are, I'm Pretty Sure I Have Them

They may or may not be developing on my feet, and I may or may not deal with it. But I WILL determine which nail polishes look best with them.
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Publish date:
March 12, 2013
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Tags:
feet, nail polishes, pedicures, pain, medical stuff, surgery, blood, bunions

Internet is so great, you guys. One time I accidentally took a huge hit from a Sherlock pipe that was filled with isopropyl alcohol after my OCD creepy new roommate cleaned it for the second time that month. I thought that death was imminent--well, I’m literally sitting here right now trying to find the Yahoo! Answers thread that convinced me otherwise, but apparently death is definitely imminent.

But yeah, the internet was also super-helpful in reassuring me that I wasn’t meeting my slow, painful, itchy end after guzzling Jane Pratt’s metallic youth potion. Just a harmless sudden rash of smoldering hives was all.

However, when I needed the internet to qualm my fears about my incorrectly sized feet, it spat another “imminent death” conclusion. Actually, it’s worse: I’m at risk for bunions from being too glamorous, and the corrective SURGERY doesn’t really work a third of the time, and apparently won’t even correct the real problem which is me being not able to wear my fabulous shoes.

If you thought that bunions were gross open sores that spew yellow puss, you’re not alone. I actually thought this for most of my life, until I started Googling skin diseases and discovered that staph is closer to what I was thinking. (Also, my gag reflex is forever triggered by the words “lance and drain.”)

Bunions are actually a deformity of the inner sides of your feet due to having too beautiful of a wardrobe. They’re actually genetic, which is funny because so is dressing really awesome.

Sick heels are basically the tobacco of contemporary young women. We had no idea that something that looked so cool could cause such strife, until we find ourselves pissing IV fluids into a cold hospital toilet for ten minutes straight after the anesthetic wears off, looking up at the insolent nurse with an attempt at a scowl that really just comes off as a pathetic pout-frown, your cartoony drooping eyes doing nothing in support of your do-what-I-want attitude, as you wonder, “Were those cool cigs/shoes worth THIS?” Just kidding--I haven’t had bunion surgery yet, but this is my only hospital memory.

It was just a few short months ago that I found myself stomping up Fifth Avenue toward the xoJane offices with an unfamiliar moisture filling the right half of my vintage black suede go-go boots. It was too viscous to be the usual mixture of sweat and dead skin seeping into the gaps between my toes, and there was a lot of it.

I stopped into Madewell to check it out, and it was totally blood. I had no idea what to do, so I took a couple of photos and posted them on Instagram, put my boot back on and kept walking or whatever.

Point is, I’m slowly deforming my feet just from doing what comes natural: wearing beautifully misogynistic heels. I’ve heard others compare today’s irrationally designed stilettos to the Chinese practice of foot binding, but I’m not wearing these five-inch Freja booties to impress men or improve my socioeconomic status. HA!

I’m wearing them to induce that deliciously naughty girl hate/love that sprouts and quickly blossoms into full-fledged, “OMG LET’S BE BEST FRIENDS!” because their shoes rule, and if their shoes rule, they probably have their shit together just enough to have decent hang times. If they’re wearing anything leaning toward “sensible” territory I tend to shy away because that’s the kind of chick who won’t cuddle with you in the back of the DJ’s Cadillac at 3 am in the Whataburger drive-thru, clutching the fur that you left in the Hotel Vegas bathroom that she had enough sense to snatch before the next round of shoe-leveled BFFLs piles in. IT’S ALL ABOUT MAKING FRIENDS, you know?

What’s a girl to do? Buy Crocs? Olivia might have had the gall to recommend those atrocities, but she also admits to being in a “dark place” during the time in her life when she first purchased them. “Correlation ≠ causation” my ass!

I don’t think I have bunions yet. You can pretty much diagnose yourself, just look down. Is your big toe jutting inward? Is there a large bump on the side of your foot beneath it? Meet your bunion.

My current pains are probably mostly due to my right foot being slightly wider than the left, which is also on the wider side of average, resulting in my toes impaling each other with their nails, which aren’t even long and hobbit-y. Still, there will be blood.

But as I slap on this serum and that eye cream, and that corrector and this exfoliator in between some oily salve and eyelash enhancer, should I be doing something for my crucified feet? They make weird toe bras that are supposed to help correct and prevent bunions, but I can’t even remember to wear my retainer on a regular basis, let alone some strange contraption for my feet that my dude would still think were disgusting if they were cast in 24 karat gold and cradled between Beyonce’s thighs. I get paid to take care of myself and it doesn’t get done.

Let’s face the facts, I’m not going to stop wearing sick shoes. So here’s some nail polish to pair with your busted hooves...