Oddly, my feet are just about the only part of my body that I've always liked aesthetically.  I know everyone thinks their own feet are normal, and that everyone else's are weird, but despite them previously being described as looking like "remote control boxes" (long, thin and rectangular), I've always liked their proportions and shape. But although they (mostly) look nice, and I'd be fine if I could bumble around barefoot, add shoes and my feet become my foe.

It's my own fault, I guess; I fall into all the worst traps that are placed invitingly in front of women. But I definitely seem to suffer more than most.  Why? It's not fair! I *like* my feet!

The first problem I really noticed as a child was that, with weirdly narrow feet, a high arch, and high bridge, finding a fashionable shoe was an impossibility.  Slip ons, you say? Slip offs, at least for me. So into the sensible flat lace-ups I was put. And that worked fine, until, at the end of my Doc Martens stage, I bridged into trainers. In fact, I spent what felt like a small fortune on a pair of fashionable skate trainers as a student, only to return twice within my first term (of 10 weeks), on both occasions having worn through the padding around my heel, down to the hard plastic insert. Heel spurs on the backs of both heels provide me with a natural horse-poky-thing, but also mean that wearing any shoes not lined with leather rapidly becomes dispiriting, as they look beautiful and new on the outside whilst being painfully unwearable.

Moving through trainers, and into professional life, I thought my problems would end when splashing out on leather kitten heels, complete with leather lining. But spending 18 hours on my feet in them a year or so ago brought on numbness and pain that lasted for 6 weeks.  Six weeks without being able to feel my toes! Very, very disconcerting. And now, having taken up running as part of my attempt to fend off the ageing process, I get the numbness while I'm running too.  It's a toss up between Morton's Neuroma and Tarsal tunnel syndrome – either way, there's a nerve getting trapped somewhere.

So now I'm left with a selection of wonderful high heels that I can't wear; shoes that have been worn through in the lining, whilst still looking new; and 2 ancient pairs of walking/running shoes that I can actually cope with. And flip flops.  Come on feet! Buck your ideas up! and come on world! Let me wear elderly trainers to work!

Picture from a website I was browsing, telling me not to wear high heels or go running. Yawn.