After all, it's not bothering me, and what am I going to do if I reduce those Brobdingnagian plates of meat, cram them into Jimmy Choos? I think not.Then, bliss: the world caught up with me, and in my twenties I found I could buy bog-ordinary shoes. Did I reacquaint myself with my plates of meat? Did I fuck, I left them well alone, as long as they did their job of taking steps, reasoning that if I ignored them they'd go away - with me on top them.
Then, in Vienna, in 1998, I awoke from a binge to discover that I'd failed to remove my boots the night before. In the gungy sweat I could feel something painful and gritty. It was a savage Germanic fungal infection that then proceeded to infest the swine for the next eight years. Eight years of fraying webbing, eight years of toenails dropping off, eight years of smearing on unguents and puffing on powders.
You might've thought that such exigencies would've driven me to rethink my foot aversion - not a bit of it. I kept them at leg's length. It wasn't until the fungus began to spread over the rest of my body that I took drastic action, and going to my GP was prescribed 'pulse' medication, that finally did for the skin-feeding mushrooms.
Then, in Vienna, in 1998, I awoke from a binge to discover that I'd failed to remove my boots the night before. In the gungy sweat I could feel something painful and gritty. It was a savage Germanic fungal infection that then proceeded to infest the swine for the next eight years. Eight years of fraying webbing, eight years of toenails dropping off, eight years of smearing on unguents and puffing on powders.
You might've thought that such exigencies would've driven me to rethink my foot aversion - not a bit of it. I kept them at leg's length. It wasn't until the fungus began to spread over the rest of my body that I took drastic action, and going to my GP was prescribed 'pulse' medication, that finally did for the skin-feeding mushrooms.
No comments:
Post a Comment