Anyone who knows me is aware of how much I DO NOT like feet. I’ve never had a problem with my own, just everyone else’s. When I’m out and about, minding my own business, and someone comes along invading my space by showing off their feet in either barefoot form or some open-toed pair of shoes, I have to stop everything I’m doing and glare at them with an evil eye.
And it’s not just once! I have to continue making glances at these feet as if they are giving me an ugly look or taunting me. It’s like a car accident- terrible chain of events but EVERYONE has to stop what they’re doing and stare. My own foot habits use to be that I wouldn’t even wear open-toed shoes unless my feet were “up-to-par” for the chance that everyone else would be glaring down at my own. I’ve never been a frequenter with a pedicure, but I use to go to great lengths to make sure they were pampered.
Well, the other day I wore sandals and I kept staring at my own feet and came to the conclusion that I no longer like my own feet either. I finally looked down and said to them, “I don’t even know who you are anymore!” But it’s true! I DON’T recognize my own feet anymore! I can’t decide if they look bigger, or “wider” or the toe nails just don’t have the same “youthfulness” that they once had. Can’t quite put my finger on it; nor do I literally want to.
It’s the whole “getting older” thing that I’m not quite fond of, especially when it comes to below the ankles. It’s common for other women my age to make it a point to get pedicures, but I’ve never worried or thought of doing the same. Should I? Would this new adventure fill in the gaps of this distorted relationship that I now have with my lower extremities? Will I finally understand what the big “hoop-la” is about getting pedicures and hanging out with a bunch of other feet AND allowing a complete stranger to violate mine?
To Be Continued….. Feet II