It’s official. I’ve run out of socks.
One of the downsides of wearing boots is that they give me a bad case of ‘holes in the socks’.
My flat feet have been pampered their whole lives. They’ve never been shoved into high heels for more than a couple of hours at a time. They’re kept free of shoes as much as possible. And when they’re forced into shoes, it’s usually a pair of nice, soft, comfy trainers.
Then came the time to buy boots in Kyiv.
There are boots everywhere in this town, but nary a pair without six-inch heels and lots of tassles and studs. So when I found a pair of flat-soled boots, I snapped them right up. What I didn’t consider was that the toe of the boot was rather low – unlike my toes. So my toes are constantly rubbing on the inside of the boot.
As a result, every sock I own has two holes in it – one from when I wore it on the left foot. And one from when I wore it on the right.
I occasionally get embarrassed about the holes when I doff my shoes in posh people’s houses. The other downside is when the holey sock I’m wearing has a giant hole, which cuts off circulation in my toe.
But I had to wonder if it’s time to pull out the sewing kit when, visiting my friend’s house, her three year old daughter ran up to me, sighing with disappointment. “Little Miss Moi,” she said. “You don’t have any holes in your socks today!”
That a three year old noticed that ‘holes in the socks’ is the norm is worrysome in itself. More worrying was that I’d purposely worn these un-holey socks (my only pair) to cover the ten holes in my stockings underneath.
I felt like I’d been outsmarted by a three year old.