


It looks like I’m going to have to swear off high heels indefinitely – my tender hip just isn’t ready for ‘em. I wore my favorite Fluevogs yesterday and could barely mince down Bull Street (thank the heavens they also make unbelievably adorable flats!)
I jokingly likened my misery to the ancient Chinese practice of footbinding, the ritual breaking of little girls’ feet so they will remain small and delicate, like a lily flower. The smaller the foot, the higher the status, and the more likely a girl was to attract a wealthy husband.
I realized later I was being ridiculously dramatic; at the end of the day, I can take off my shoes and my husband will even rub them, bunions and all. Not so for Chinese women through a certain age.
In Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, a mother explains to her daughter that "Only through pain will you have beauty. Only through suffering will you have peace.”
Barf.
Footbinding was banned when the Communists took over in 1949, but there are still little old women tottering around on tiny feet. I found these horrible photos while I was soaking my tootsies in epsom salts last night:

It seems so cruel and backwards, but what painful beauty practices of today (sticking poison in our faces, shoving silicone in our chests, sucking out fat with hi-tech vacuum cleaner) will seem as evil in a hundred years?