Feets, Don't Fail Me Now

I am apparently losing necessary cohesion, or perhaps my body has decided to wreak vengeance for my years of prior abuse. Every shoe I has purchased recently has given me blisters: sneakers, butter-soft leather sandals, flip flops, loafers . . . My feet are continually bandaged. Calluses appear, but to no avail or in the wrong place. My feet are definitely not anything anyone would pay to look at. And even if the shoes aren't wearing a hole in my feet, my feet are wearing holes in the shoes (witness my New Balance sneakers, which after a brief period of blister doling goodness have mostly settled down, but which now have been mysteriously worn through all the interior padding at the lower heel).

I am beginning to despair. What is wrong with me? Am I too delicate for this world? Should I hire something to carry me everywhere: a sedan chair, a pair of strong-backed houseboys, a pony? When you can't even manage a walk to the grocery store without limping, there's something seriously wrong.