I really wish that in my youth, I’d not worn pointy shoes But they’d called to me from the shoe-shop shelves And I just could not refuse. They were red or blue or green or pink, With a four inch stiletto heel They looked so smart and pretty on my feet And I loved how glam’ they made me feel. They were there through my teens and twenties, I had a pair in every shade! Together we worked, shopped and danced all night And I thought our love would never fade. But their beauty held me hostage And for my feet there was no escape. There was wickedness behind their good looks As they forced my feet to a pointy shape Then twenty-five years down the road of life I had the beginnings of arthritis, Ingrown nails, bunions, hammer toes, And plantar fasciitis. In low-heeled boots my arches don’t ache, The hammer toes are better, just about, But the bunions remain as a souvenir So pretty sandals and flip-flops are OUT! My poor old feet had been squeezed for so long, I’m glad I finally set them free. Now what attracts me to a pair of shoes, Is how comfy they look to me. The End.
Stilettos - beautiful but really nasty to feet. Shutterstock