"It’s just that they’re so wide," my dad says.
"But they aren’t abnormally wide," I explain. "I’ve seen the little shoe-sizer gadget, and her feet are a normal width."
"Well, they look wide. They look like big old boats," he says. I’m asking him about his distaste for my mom’s feet. I know that it’s largely because of him that she has this hangup about her feet. My dad is not known for his tact when it comes to women’s body images. He is notorious for pointing out zits, weight gain, bad haircuts (defined as anything shorter than mid-back), and unflattering clothes for the women in his life.
My parents are long ago divorced, so what he thinks of her feet isn’t really very important, except that I think my feet are shaped like hers, and I have a hard time finding shoes that are shaped correctly, so I’m trying to narrow down what it is about her feet that makes them different from other people’s (haha, get it. "narrow down"). The descriptor "big old boats" doesn’t help me much.
Later, I am telling Preston about the conversation. "Well, your feet are shaped a little different than most people’s," he says.
"They are? How? Show me."
"Well, it’s not so much when you hold them up in the air like that. It’s more when you are standing on them. They are really square in the front, where most people’s feet curve down towards the little toe."