chocolate is a verb

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Tag Archives: fluoroscope

bad feet…

Dorothy in saddle shoes, 1947At the children’s shoe store in Westwood Village, laced into a new pair of shoes, I stepped onto the fluoroscope, leaned toward the eyepiece and peered down at my phalanges and metatarsals within the stitched outline of the shoes. All of us had our feet irradiated then. If I asked and no one was waiting, the salesman would let me step onto the machine barefoot. It was fun to see your bones.

Distressing as it is in retrospect, the upshot was that I wore saddle shoes. That my mother also favored saddle shoes did not make them more appealing to me. They were stiff and heavy and, as I saw it, obliterated any lingering possibility that I would ever be pretty or popular.

Sadly, neither the fluoroscope nor the sensible shoes prevented me from having bad feet. Nor, even if I kept them polished to a gloss, did they make my mother like me any better.
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photo: my mother in saddle shoes, 1947