Home > my life, oops!, pissing and moaning > YES, THOSE ARE MY FEET. HARD TO BELIEVE, ISN’T IT?

YES, THOSE ARE MY FEET. HARD TO BELIEVE, ISN’T IT?

LOOK MY RIGHT FOOT IS DOING A MODIFIED PEACE SIGN!

LOOK MY RIGHT FOOT IS DOING A MODIFIED PEACE SIGN!

Anyone that has known me for any length of time knows that I have denied having feet at all. I have had, what I call, BUTT UGLY FEET all my life. At about 27 I was lucky enough (if you want to call it that) to need surgery to have bunions removed so I could walk more than two steps.  After that there were years of hiding the feet since every time I looked at them all I saw were monster feet.

As I aged they continued to disappoint me more and more. Growing from size 9 to 10-11 with sausage toes that started growing in their own little directions, I would only go barefoot at home and still tried to hide them when someone else was in the room. This would have been fine for the rest of my life without my wonderful girl child intervening.

“Mom, you really should get a pedicure, you wouldn’t believe how great it is!” “Sure, sure,” I under my breath which roughly translated into “It’ll be a cold day in hell!” This was the same phrase I had said to a friend a few years ago knowing I would never-ever-ever let anyone touch my feet!

Fortunately, I will be going for surgery on Friday and I looked at my feet that were truly turning chicken claws and my resolve dissolved, so to speak. She the and I entered the salon with my head hung in shame, apologizing all the way to the huge, massaging recliner where I would submit to the horror of it all. As he brought out the tools of torture that I knew were going were insufficient to the task. I thought of suggesting a belt sander, but held my tongue.

Slowly but surely I felt my resistance waning. There was the vibrating chair on my tortured back, the warm, bubbly water relaxing my clenched toes and the next thing I knew, my feet were almost pretty! The foot massage he administered forced me to admit, “Hey, this isn’t so bad after all!” Darling daughter picked out the polish, the coup de grâce being the dazzling, sparkles. You know, I might do this again and again and again, and I have no problem admitting that once again I was WRONG!

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