He wished he was somewhere else

I wish for feet these days more than shoes. After years of stiletto wearing and points that were so sharp you could slice tomatoes with them, I am now paying the price. I'm heading towards the slippery slope of comfortable shoe land. My early shoe wearing days of patent leather came with the warning that boys could see up your skirt in their reflection has long been replaced by the now sensible, round toe shoe buying which is a mere, gathered at the ankle, half stocking away from hush puppy hell. Department stores offer little variety between skyscraper heels which say shag me but don't expect me to walk anywhere, or rubber soles guaranteed not to squeak on the linoleum in the nursing home. I'll keep looking, or maybe I'll sever a toe off - that might help!