Big Feet, Big Socks? The Perils Of Being A Larger Footed Lady
The Debrief: Things you only know if you've got two canoes on the end of your legs
Girls who have dainty little angel feet, pity your larger hooved friends. While you can trot around in your teeny tiny elegant princess shoes, some of us are stuck with massive clodhoppers which come with struggles that are all too real.
Here’s a few things you only know if you’re size seven or above
You have a strange affinity with Paris Hilton
Sure she might be a pink-swathed, Chihuahua-toting megalomaniac (with one truly excellent pop song under her belt), but going through your awkward teenage years in the mid-noughties when pointy court shoes were all the rage there was nothing like looking a pictures of billionare heiress Paris Hilton with her size 9 feet for comfort. Giant clodhoppers poking out of the end of your Juicy Couture tracksuit? That's hot.
You're a massive liar
This goes in stages. For ages I was a size six. I mean, I wasn’t, I was more of a 7-8, but I claimed I was a size six to my friends and so that’s the size shoe that I bought. Cue several years of blisters, lumps and ingrown toenails that meant walking anywhere was less a God given right and more a cruel and unusual punishment. I remember walking back from town at 16 once wearing my friend’s size five boots both filled with blood, while tears rolled down my cheeks (only some of which could be attributed to the seven WKDs I’d just downed). A few years later I graduated to claiming I was a size six and a half before realising no-one stocked that size except Clarks. WELP, size seven it is.
Everyone else is lying
I learned this from working in a well-known, diamante-favouring high street shop when I was 17; size seven shoes are always the first to go. Sure the national average might claim to be a size 6 but as any larger footed lady knows, size seven shoes might as well be gold dust; gone with the wind as soon as they’re on sale. SOMEONE out there is lying about their sizes and it turns out it’s all of you.
The clumsies are real
Barely a day goes by where I don’t fall down at least once, partly to do with having no spatial awareness and partly to do with having two giant canoes at the end of my legs. ‘How did you do that!?’ My friends cry when they spot a bruise the size of Venezuela on my shin. The answer ‘I literally just fell down from standing up’ doesn’t really fly. Even if it is the truth.
Some shoes are off-limits
The aforementioned pointy court shoes of the mid-noughties were a total fucking nightmare. Why add an extra inch onto the end of your already ginormous feet? The same goes for anything clumpy (DM’s I love you, but I love me more), flat and long trainers (Nike Roshes, on yer bike) and also anything with a peep toe, lest your erstwhile giant second toe escapes and tries to establish it’s own colony in Oxford Circus.
People might make up songs about your toes
Maybe just me but my longer foot is down to having toes the length of fingers and it’'m definitely not the only one. I’ve not seen many bare-footed bigger clodhoppers that are blessed with teeny tiny adorable toes. Flip flops are a no, you’ve broken all your toes at some point, people might try and shake your ‘hand feet’ in a HILARIOUS comedic act. Also, one your friends might make up a song about her baby feet and your finger toes to the tune of Babycakes by mid-noughties garage pop band 3 Of A Kind.
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