Pages of my life…

I Have The Feet Of A Saint Bernard Puppy

Posted on: May 24, 2009

When I was just a kid…I always commented that I had "boat feet".  There is not much else as healthy as being able to not only love yourself unconditionally…but also having the very real ability to laugh at yourself too. I love my feet…for all their flaws and unique features.  I have "finger toes" that picked up many a bobbie pin in my teenage years.  I used to tell everyone I did not need to worry about swimming because with boat feet I was in good shape to pretty much walk on water.  I am buoyant in a big way…bobbling along in the pool or even the ocean like a cork with my legs crossed "Indian style" and not moving a muscle.  I have actually fallen asleep in swimming pools as the art of swimming is not as much of a form of exercise for me as it is relaxing…like floating on a cloud must be like.  As time and gravity have taken their toll on my ability to laugh even heartier at my reflection in the mirror I have changed my opinion on my feet. They are no longer the "I grew too fast into my shoes" skinny long legged girl look and have sprawled a bit wider and truly look like the big promising paws of a Saint Bernard puppy.  I would clearly not be the runt of the litter…and could easily be picked for becoming a "big" dog someday.  A million years ago when I was still young and pretty…I was once asked if there was anything I would like to change about my appearance.  I loved being tall…and honestly loved every feature I was born with…as it make me who I am.  The long and lean legs had served me well.  The extraordinary bust line caused me more than my share of grief as no one ever looked above my chest at first glance.  I love my big brown eyes and would not trade them for all the tea in China.  My ears are a bit big…"the better to hear you with my dear" as the wolf once said to Little Red Riding Hood.  My neck is too long…but thanks to Audrey Hepburn… it became known as long and graceful …like a swan.  My smile was undoubtedly my best feature as I could not wipe the ear to ear grin off my face at any cost…and it is no small wonder that people did not mistake me for being a simpleton as those with the mentality of a moron were known in those days.  I always described my hair as being long and stringy and baby fine.  It is nearly down to my butt at the moment…but spends most of the time tightly wound in a little ball or in a ponytail.  My hair is quite curly when wet but straighter than a rat’s tail when brushed out…and almost laughingly curls toward my face on one side and away from my face on the other.  My shimmy shake fanny had a life of its own…and my arms could pop up a muscle in a second’s notice that would make Popeye jealous…but there was one thing that I said I would like to have changed.  I have a bump on my nose from a childhood mishap… where I came bouncing up from below the water’s surface at a family lake picnic gathering…and my Aunt’s chin was directly above me.  I felt certain my nose was broken in the process as I had never felt anything hurt that badly…and wore my little bump for the rest of my life like a battle scar.  As the years passed…my Aunt died a bit too young and I became glad I had the bump to always remember her by.  It seemed that I was the only one who could see my "invisible" bump…but I knew it was there…and could not find flaw with anything else worthy of changing.  I have a birthmark on my left arm that is about the size of a quarter and quite dark.  I love telling everyone it is part of my African American and Indian heritage.  No such heritage has ever been recorded in our family…but I like to think that is where my light olive skin came from.  I have changed my tune a few times about whether or not my fingers belonged to my Mom or Dad.  I liked to claim I had my Mom’s hands until hers became gnarled and bent with arthritis.  Now I think mine must have been part of my Dad’s heritage…as my sister has arthritis in her hands…and has for quite some time now.  So…I guess if the worst thing you have to cope with are feet that used to be boats and now resemble the paws of a Saint Bernard puppy…I will consider myself lucky.  If I am fortunate enough to live a long time…I hope to someday become the wrinkled old lady that my great grandmother looked like in her latter years.  And if I am half the person she was…independent, stubborn and loving…I will be thankful to walk a mile in her shoes…even though mine are undoubtedly several sizes larger.  Food for thought on this memory based weekend…if you could change any part of yourself…what would it be ???  After having painted such a lovely picture of myself…I shall have to share a letter I wrote on that very subject some time soon.  Have a safe and happy Memorial Day…and don’t forget to pay homage to those who have come before us or touched our lives in a most memorable way. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


  • None
  • justmebethb: Thank you for your interest in my little blog page. I know very little about the format options. I was in writing mode a few years ago and combined
  • best psychics in boston massachusetts: I'm really loving the theme/design of your weblog. Do you ever run into any internet browser compatibility problems? A small number of my blog audi
  • justmebethb: Thanks Lori...I could not agree more. And, of course, the first daffodil ever planted at this house, bloomed yesterday...on Ray's birthday. Makes se
%d bloggers like this: