Now that I’m a grown up, my life is so much less complicated in some aspects and so much more complicated in others. For instance, home life? So much less complicated. thanks be to the high and mighty powers that run the universe. When I was a teenager? Very bad homelife, I would cry and cry and cry.
“Oh I can smile about it now but at the time it was terrible”.
Now, I only cry for fun, or if there’s a sappy movie on. Well, ok, it’s not fun, but ya know, it’s different. It’s a walk in the park compared to tears from my youth.
But my feet are so much more complicated now. I used to get by on $10 shoes made out of cotton and plastic. They were all I needed. Sure, these cheapo china doll shoes did terrible things to my arches, but I didn’t care. Now, I have complicated shoe needs. I just bought an $80 pair of hiking shoes for just everyday sensible shoes. I can’t just wear any old sneakers anymore. I can’t even wear my cute campers anymore. It hurts if I wear them more than a few hours and then I’m limping for days. I suppose if I was given the opportunity to choose between a painful heart, and painful feet, I’d take the feet any day of the week. Atleast feet can be soaked in ice water.
Another thing that’s complicated… food. I used to generally dislike food. I only ate it when I thought I might fall over if I didn’t. But since my teens, I’ve discovered that food tastes really, really, really good. And there’s so much of it, and all different kinds that are wonderful in their own unique ways. Good food is everywhere, and I know how to cook it too. I’m the best damn cook I know without a formal cooking education. I used to have a very unhealthy relationship with food. Now I have a very healthy one. Maybe too healthy.
Maybe my feet hurt more because I love food so much? I mean, maybe I wouldn’t have broken my foot snowboarding if I had been a little slimmer. I would have just gracefully tumbled through the snow like I did when I was 25. And now that it’s healed, maybe carrying around an extra 20 pounds makes that much difference on my crooked foot. I know what you are going to tell me. “It’s called aging, Alanna.”
Yeah, yeah yeah, You can’t blame a girl for trying though.