I’ve had bad foot pain for the past two years. So bad, in fact, that my foot problems were part of what led to my diagnosis of fibromyalgia, although apparently the two things aren’t actually related. Instead, I have Morton’s toe, which basically means that my first two toes move upwards as I walk. The result is that my foot wobbles when I walk, much as if I were walking on ice skates all day.
By the end of most days, my feet and ankles feel like someone’s been beating on them with a baseball bat. Which makes sense, if you think about it: with every step my body weight rests on the outer edge of my foot, rather than being spread evenly, so my ankles and outside edge of my feet are getting quite the workout.
Not long ago, a friend suggested that I try foot exercises to strengthen my feet and ankle muscles, including one in which I basically walk around picking up things with my toes. Yes, it’s all a little odd-looking, but they’re definitely helping. My feet ache less at night, and most mornings I can actually set foot on the floor without breaking into tears.
So today while I was doing my little foot workout routine, a friend called to talk about her latest diet and exercise woes. As someone notoriously bad at calorie-counting, I wholly sympathize with her frustrations. At one point during our conversation I must have grunted or something, because she asked what I was doing.
“Uh, I’m working out,” I told her, not wanting to actually go into the details of how I was trying to wrap my toes around Bic pens and lift them from the floor. “Lifting stuff, you know, nothing strenuous.”
“OMG!” she blurted out. “Don’t you worry about bulking up and getting even bigger? I’d never, ever lift weights until I first shed some fat or else I might not be able to fit in my jeans.”
Suddenly, I imagined myself having big, beef toes rippling with muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s biceps, toes so mighty and strong that I could wrestle or hoist dumb bells with them. Toes so skilled at lifting things that I could operate the remote control or use them to pour coffee while I type. Toes so prehensile that I’d no longer need to wish I had a spare set of hands, so long as I wasn’t encumbered by footwear.
Which is why I’m now looking into bladder exercises. Because chubby women with weak abdominal muscles should never, ever laugh that hard.
Chubby Mommy 