Finding comfort in a “small world”
By BETH BEGGS
My feet are ample. That’s a nice way to put it. They are a sturdy base, a ﬁrm under-stand-ing, an anchor in the storm, and a won-derment to behold. Of course, I haven’t always felt this way. I didn’t like my feet as a girl. By the time I was eleven, I’d outgrown mother’s shoes, could easily ﬁt in my dad’s, and was destined to never ﬁnd a man because my grandmother, who wore a size ﬁve, said that the ﬁrst thing my grandfather noticed about her was her dainty little feet.