Three times I broke my right foot. Three times in the same place — directly below my big toe.
Strangers would ask why I was on crutches and wearing a cast, and I concocted elaborate stories to explain my temporary impairment.
“Skiing, over the holidays,” I’d say.
“Car accident. The vehicle was totaled so a broken foot is a minor inconvenience.”
“Dancing. My partner has two left feet.”
Diane Lareau, 35, of Linwood, Mass., always knew there was something wrong, but her mother kept telling her she was just pigeon-toed and that putting her shoes on the wrong feet would fix the problem.
It didn’t, and by her late teens, she remembers, her toes were “all bent and just a mess. It looked like a bird’s claw on both feet. I was actually almost walking on the outsides of my ankles.”