Tuesday, July 5, 2016

my foot doctor

Going to a podiatrist is like going to a professional pedicurist who doesn't do polish.

My toes are not one of my favorite features. Eight are okay, but two are slightly curled over, making it impossible for a non-doctor to cut them really short.  I used to think the thickening nails on these two resulted from years of going to cheap nail salons. But no, my podiatrist (whom I love) tells me, "It's from your feet being cramped into shoes."  

Every three or four  months I see Dr. Alan Rosen on the Upper East Side. He's personable, patient, and knowledgeable —all good qualities for a podiatrist.





I sit in his chair while he does his thing. He uses a small instrument (nippers, I think) that in the wrong hands could be dangerous. Other than my bothersome toes, I am lucky to have no other feet problems.

I buy $34 inserts for the Mephisto booties I wear almost every day (even in summer) when working. I'll try anything to make my feet a little more comfortable for eight-hours of standing.

A half hour after arriving I'm done. I love short, short nails (both on hands and feet). Like a clutter-free apartment (still working on that), it's liberating.


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