The Foot Powder Follies

The combination of sweaty feet and a job that requires that I stand approximately 90% of the time requires that I use foot powder. It’s a weird thing to talk about on a blog, I know. I use Dr. Scholl’s. Religiously, almost. It’s my brand. It’s not unlike my preference in pop. For me it’s Dr. Pepper or no thank you. There’s no in-between.

The other day I ran out of foot powder, and D, being the observant girl that she is, took it upon herself to replace my depleted supply. It looked the same as always, the Dr. Scholl’s logo displayed on the front, the 10% more claim directly beneath it, and the bold yellow colored bottle I’ve come to rely on.

Yesterday morning, as I readied myself for work, I put generous amounts of the powder in my work shoes and was on my way. The day started off the same as most as me and my morning co-workers readied ourselves for the day ahead. It wasn’t until about a half hour after our real work had begun that I noticed the cold tingling sensation in my feet. I brushed the feeling aside at first, chalking it up to being in a air conditioned environment and promptly forgot about it. Soon I noticed it again, but this time my feet were tingling even more than before. My feet were getting colder and the tingling sensation made me begin to worry.

Heart problems run in my family and while I don’t really know much about the warning signs I imagined that a tingling sensation in any of my extremities could indicate a circulation problem. I was getting worried now, but brushed the feelings aside in favor of getting some work done. I was, after all, on the clock.

By the end of the day, with my feet still cold, I made my way home privately worrying that I may have a much larger problem than just cold feet. Upon arriving back at our house, the first thing I did was remove my shoes and socks. So after I did it, my feet warmed to their usual selves and I decided that I had probably just tied my kicks on to tight. The next day, my feet were cold again, and this time I really started to get worried. But in keeping with the previous day, when I got home and removed my shoes and socks the feeling had, again, quickly subsided.

Finally, on my third morning, I happened to look at the bottle of Dr. Scholl’s foot powder, when I made a little discovery. It seems that D had bought the mentholated version, and since hot feet are not my problem, the powder just, instead of counteracting the heat, made my feet cold. While the worry I had felt for the past couple of days gave way to laughter, I could only shake my head at my reluctance to explore what the cause of my symptoms might have been. Really, the first thing I should’ve done was to inspect the bottle, but in my private worry, I didn’t want to discover that a larger problem existed.

See, I’m afraid of the doctor’s office. I believe that if you want to catch something then the waiting room of any Doctor’s office would be a good place to find it. I’m also afraid of what the Doctor might say in regards to whatever malady brought me in. So I tend to worry about things until they become so dehabilitating that nothing short of a visit to the Doc will suffice.