And If the Shoe Doesn’t Fit…

Betty Lidalot considers the idea of stiletto surgery:

“There must be a better way to wear heels like those.  I’m not quite a ballerina, so I can’t stand on just my toes.”

Carla DuCansa looked up from trying on a pair of Nicholas Kirkwood black satin pumps with 5” heels and crystal platforms.  “You had any bunions removed already?”

“Of course,” said Betty.  “That was the obvious first step.  The biomedical industry should be able to put its vast resources on to this problem.

Carla waved a hand vaguely.  “Oh, long ago.  First there was the collagen injection into the ball of your foot.”  She lifted up her leg and pointed to it.  “I had that done ages ago.  Now it’s like I’m walking around on pillows.”

Betty closed her eyes dreamily.  “That sounds wonderful.  Is that why you wear those stilt heels all day every day?”

“Oh, no, there is more to it.  I needed to have my toes shortened.”

Betty’s eyes flew open.  “You shortened your toes?  Why?”

“It’s not as if the shoe industry did us any favors,” Carla said.  “They still refuse to design a single comfortable shoe, or one that fits.  So I needed to make my foot fit the shoe.  Who needs a lifetime of pinched nerves?”  She stood up and pirouetted on the toe of one shoe.

“Amazing,” Betty breathed.  “You look as though you could fly.  Is it worth the surgery?”

“Not yet,” Carla said as she descended from the heights of her heels.  “Not until I did Deep Pink.”

“Toenail polish?” Betty guessed.

“It’s where they remove the pinky toe altogether,” Carla said.  “Then all those shoes you always love fit perfectly.  Like my Louboutin Corsetica red sandals.”

“My favorite shoes,” Betty said.  “To look at, anyway.  I can’t imagine how you wear them all day.  So you think the Deep Pink surgery was worth it?”

“I’ve never felt this good about any surgery I’ve ever had done. If it’s vain, it’s vain.  But…”  Carla looked at the shoes on her feet.  “They seem to stop at five and a half inch heels.  Anything taller, and they add a platform.  Why can’t I get a good seven inch heel – or no heel at all.  There is a clinic that will fuse your ankle and remove all those ugly toes.  Then you can tiptoe around as the most elegant ballerina you ever saw.  Add a platform box toe, and you can tower anyone in the room.”

Carla pirouetted on the heel of her right shoe, then on the toe of her left shoe.  “And it’s a market opportunity.”  She coasted to a halt, then sat down daintily.

“What’s the opportunity?” asked Betty.

“My dear, we make medical devices,” said Carla.  “You know, like wheelchairs and walkers.  As we all age, we will need something more fashionable than Granny’s towel rack.  As these foot surgeries become more popular, we must prepare an equally fashionable walker.  And I, my dear, will be ready.”

“Is this about the new TV show you mentioned?”

“Yes, we take away Granny’s towel rack with its hideous and tacky tennis balls on the feet.  We trick it out into something you can be proud of.”

“What’s the name of the show?” Betty asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.

Carla smiled coyly.  “Pimp My Walker.”

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