My mother was always comparing her feet with mine, showing off that her feet were smaller than mine, and talking wistfully of her mother’s even smaller feet.
The other day, I caught sight of my own feet, which seemed rather small.
“Hey Zoe,” I said, “Aren’t your feet larger than mine? Let’s compare.”
She obligingly came over and compared, but said, “Because you are Indian, and Indians like to have small feet, let’s just say that your feet are smaller than mine.”
But then she added, “But, in fact, your shoes are loose on me.”
And where did such maturity come from?