Feet First: How Ditching Heels Transformed My Foot Health

The Unspoken Cost of Corporate Footwear

A recent quest for new athletic shoes in Bangkok sparked a profound realization about how much our bodies adapt—and sometimes suffer—due to societal expectations. For years, the professional world dictated a strict dress code, particularly for women. In my early career, the expectation of wearing heels was almost a rite of passage, a non-negotiable part of 'fitting in' within traditional workplaces.

This wasn't just a trend; it was a deeply ingrained cultural norm. From the bustling financial districts of London to the corporate towers of Sydney, young professional women were conditioned to believe that heels were synonymous with seriousness and success. I recall navigating everything from chunky, walkable heels to precarious stilettos, battling blisters and discomfort. Despite never truly enjoying them, I conformed, believing it was simply "what we do."

The Lingering Effects of Conformity

Over time, the constant pressure of unnaturally shaped footwear took its toll. My feet began to develop bunions, a painful testament to years spent contorted. While I didn't wear tight, heeled leather shoes daily, their frequent use was enough to visibly alter the shape of my feet. The occasional twinge from a bunion was a stark reminder, though not yet severe enough to demand medical intervention.

Insight 1: The Body's Adaptive Resilience and Reversion. Our bodies possess an incredible capacity to adapt to chronic pressures, even those detrimental to our health. However, this narrative also highlights an equally remarkable ability for the body to revert towards a more natural, healthier state once those pressures are removed. This isn't exclusive to feet; it's a powerful reminder that given the right conditions, our bodies can often heal and realign themselves, shedding years of accumulated strain.

A Forced Freedom: The Pandemic's Unexpected Gift

Then, over 5 years ago, the world shifted. The pandemic ushered in an era of remote work and a dramatically more casual lifestyle. With no office to commute to, no formal events, and social activities grinding to a halt for over 2 years, the need for heels vanished. My feet, once confined, found liberation. I spent my days barefoot, in comfortable slippers, or supportive sneakers. The constant strain on my knees and back from maintaining an unnatural posture in heels was gone. All I craved was comfort, protection, and stability for daily walks, especially with my dog.

Rediscovering My "New" Feet

When it came time to replace my athletic shoes, a closer look revealed just how profoundly my feet had changed:

• Size Shift: My feet are now up to a whole size bigger than they were before. Surprisingly, my required sneaker size had increased by almost 2 whole sizes! This was a crucial discovery, explaining why previous "new" shoes always felt uncomfortable—I'd been buying based on old measurements.
• Wider Profile: Always having relatively narrow feet, they are now notably wider than they used to be. My treasured narrow Ferragamo shoes, once a perfect fit, are a relic of a past foot shape. My feet have seemingly "spread," embracing a more natural width.
• Bunion Improvement: To my surprise, my bunions were less severe, and my feet looked less deformed. The occasional twinges had ceased, and while my toes aren't perfectly straight, they show clear signs of recovery. This transformation occurred simply by allowing my feet to exist in their natural state, without any specific treatment.
• Unleashed Comfort: The feeling of freedom in non-leather shoes, primarily sneakers or slippers, is indescribable. My feet can finally move, breathe, and function without restriction.

Insight 2: Redefining Professionalism and Personal Liberation. This experience underscores the subtle yet powerful influence of workplace norms on personal choices, often at the expense of comfort and well-being. The pandemic, inadvertently, acted as a catalyst, allowing many to re-evaluate these expectations. It highlights that true professionalism isn't dictated by restrictive attire but by competence and confidence, challenging the long-held notion that comfort and professionalism are mutually exclusive. Breaking free from such 'shackles' of societal norms can lead to profound personal liberation, both physically and psychologically.

While a part of me laments a wardrobe of heels that no longer fit, the overriding sentiment is one of joy. My feet have been allowed to revert to a more natural, healthier state, and I am no longer compelled to conform to societal pressures that compromise my comfort. This journey isn't just about footwear; it's about embracing a more authentic, liberated self. The question remains: do societal expectations still dictate your footwear choices?