Vartabedian: Paying the Bill for My Aching Feet

Although I’m too old to remember, I can imagine the very first words uttered by my father. They went something like this: “Wiggle those toes, son. Ah, c’mon. Wiggle those dinky toes.”

This leads me to believe that some people are apt to notice your feet before your eyes and scrutinize you from the bottom up.

If someone were to ask me what part of my body I respect the most, it would not be my brain. I take that for granted. Not so my feet. They are the unsung heroes without which a mind cannot function.

My feet support the rest of me and get me around each day. It is incumbent on me to take good care of them.

And that happens to be a chore because I’ve been cursed with dry, cracked, and itchy feet throughout my life.

No matter what I’ve tried, I can’t find relief. Then I was introduced to a wonderful new product called Miracle Foot Repair. I happened to run across an ad in a publication about the product made from the gel of the aloe plant that has been used for 4,000 years to help curb foot issues.

“It is a fast-acting, gentle natural curative and skin moisturizer that penetrates deep into the sub-layers of the skin to get at the root of the problem,” the ad stated.

The notice went on to say it healed feet so fast, even doctors couldn’t believe it.

I’m always leery about these ads, especially since the product was not sold in stores. If it was so good and foolproof, why isn’t it sold commercially? Why hasn’t some brand name bought them out and revolutionized the foot-curing industry?

It’s like running across an ad for curing cancer. All the scientific experiments, all the money exhausted to find a remedy, and somebody from the tropical islands of Aloha had the dilemma solved all the time because it worked for prehistoric man.

“Send for a generous free sample today,” the ad continued. So I did.

One month of itching later, my package arrived and I intercepted it from the postal carrier. I didn’t want other members of the family to witness this tomfoolery.

They also sent along a fact sheet that read, “Don’t ignore your feet. They won’t stand for it.”

My father was also a man of platitudes. He once told me that if you put your best foot forward, you won’t step on someone else’s toes.

I did not know the average person walks 100,000 miles during a lifetime. Most cars wear out over that distance without proper care and maintenance.

I was unaware that a 150-pound jogger, running 3 miles, accumulates an impact of 150 tons on each foot. Or that a 125-pound woman wearing high heels strikes the ground with an impact of over 900 pounds with each step.

There are evenings following a strenuous workout when my feet feel like lead anvils. Nothing like using our sofa for a footrest. The odor that permeates the room is another matter. Another impediment is my wife. She has feet, too, and elevates them as well. We’re looking into buying couches marked “His” and “Hers.”

The directions invited me to rub Miracle Foot Repair on my left foot only (morning and evening) for three straight days. I massaged it well into the skin and between my toes.

I slipped on my sock gingerly and emerged from the bathroom, careful to flush the toilet so as not to arouse suspicion. The unique combination of enzymes, minerals, and vitamins gave off a slight stench that made me apply a more potent facial cologne.

I smelled from head to toe.

On the fourth day, I noticed a difference. I was just getting my feet wet in this miracle cure. The left foot was much more pampered than the right and in order to get the full treatment, I was going to have to dish out some serious money.

The company also recommended a foot scrub, a heel softening cream and a chafe-guard—a lifetime guarantee if you wish to invest the time and money.

I decided not to “foot” this bill. Maybe I’ll be unhappy later, like the time I had an ingrown toenail and before I was done treating it, wound up at the podiatrist who chastised me for not consulting him in the first place.

Some people have better luck with their feet. I don’t know what more I can do with mine except to continue walking the 100,000 miles to nowhere.

That is a feat I should be able to boast about once I get there.

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Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian is a retired journalist with the Haverhill Gazette, where he spent 40 years as an award-winning writer and photographer. He has volunteered his services for the past 46 years as a columnist and correspondent with the Armenian Weekly, where his pet project was the publication of a special issue of the AYF Olympics each September.

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