The problems women have with big feet

August 26, 2005

Clare Cahill has the whole world beneath her feet, and she hates it.

I'm putting my foot down. Watch out, it's very big. The other one is big too. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have large feet.

Now, to most of you, generously sized feet probably doesn't seem a physical characteristic worthy of complaint. There are worse things, like an excessively hairy back. But unfortunately, for a woman in her early 20s such a biological attribute doesn't have the same beneficial associations as it does for men. In fact the answer to the age-old question "You know what they say about a girl with big feet?" is almost inevitably "Get stuffed".

I am the leper of the shoe-buying community. "We don't stock that size here" is a phrase I've heard far too often. On the days I do get by the bigotry, the buying of shoes becomes an event. Salespeople are unconvinced when I request my size. They scoff. They seem sure no normal-looking person like myself could sport such a disproportionately sized base. They proceed to jam my foot into a series of smaller shoes. Customarily after the 14th pair there is a realisation that I am in fact the size I requested and then, inevitably, a look of pity.

But the suffering doesn't end there. Large feet scare off guys, either because it shames them, seeing my innocent feet as a direct challenge to their manhood or because they are worried about all the work involved in giving a foot massage. Finally, they force you to suffer that slight amount more indignity when getting in and out of two-door cars - and if ever there is a time when additional indignity is not needed, that is it.

I'm sure many would assume that there are benefits to such a genetic abnormality. After all one of our greatest sports stars, Ian Thorpe, is himself the proud owner of inordinately sized flippers.

The same thought had occurred to me last week, and with that renewed hope in mind I gracefully dived into my local swimming pool. Strangely enough I did not break any records. I could barely float. My feet remained the same impediment as they were on land, possibly more so because the ripples from my kicking made for "rough seas".

The thought may also have crossed your mind that large feet equals an improved sense of balance. I tested the theory. I won't horrify you with the details but let's just say the balance beam and I are no longer on good terms.

I am looking to other solutions. The ancient Chinese custom of foot-binding has crossed my mind. I'm also eager to consult a cosmetic surgeon about foot reduction surgery. At the very least I thought I'd pursue a support group for fat-footed freaks, though my search for such a thing on the internet turned up some disturbing results.

For now I suppose I will have to live with my irregularity, demurely hiding my feet under tables and constantly drawing people's attention away with ridiculous hand gestures and facial expressions. If all else fails I could always step on them, though my footprint may be a dead giveaway.

