To be honest, I don’t really like feet… they’re odd. Obviously, I am aware they have a purpose to serve but they are a bodily extremity of which I’m not too fond. They’re too… naked and vulnerable looking, somehow. I suppose the recent summer weather has sparked this train of thought as flip flops, sandals and other cute, tiny shoes appear.
I love shoes, although I don’t often wear fancy shoes myself. I had a foot operation to remove a lump which didn’t quite go according to plan, so I still have the lump, a horrible scar and the original foot pain.
I am undecided about men’s feet… (sorry gentlemen) Hobbit feet fill me with horror, but strong, manly feet… well, they can be o.k. I suppose. I once went out with a man who had a foot fetish which struck me as… odd. And rather annoying actually, as I am one of those people who hate having their feet touched.
Possibly my mother is partly responsible for this, as I remember her coming home from work, one day – she was a nurse – and relating to me with grim humour how she was changing the dressings on one old man’s gangrenous toes when as she carefully pulled the dressing away two toes fell off…
“Won’t be needing those any more, Mr. Jones!”
or some such other macabre utterance was my mother’s way of comforting the digit-light gentleman.
This story filled me with a shuddering sorrow and fear… both for the gentleman and myself… Even now, at forty-ahem- years on, I sometimes check my shoes and socks to make sure I’ve lost nothing en route, so to speak. I think that’s possibly why I like to go barefoot when I can… keep an eye on everything!
Dog feet amuse me… Rocky’s paws are totally different to Erin’s.She has very dainty paws, beautifully shaped, with golden hair protecting each toe from its neighbour, and black pads, careful cushions so she can creep about.
Rocky, on the other hand, (see what I did there?!) has splendid, high – arched toes, curved, like the flying buttresses of cathedrals, with powerful webbing and thick pink pads to propel him forwards in great, leaping bounds… or for standing casually on bare feet…
And of course, cat feet are utterly delightful. Soft, yet practical, concealing toe-knives… Charlie has the sweetest, most delicately deceptive paws, as they are completely capable of delivering a ringing slap.
I have watched in wonder as my son’s feet grew from squashy pink marshmallows to hairy, bony man feet… and a size ten shoe.
Ever heard the phrase “feet of clay”? It’s used to mean a weakness in someone you may have previously admired. It originates from the Bible, the book of Daniel, I think, where Nebuchadnezzar was telling Daniel about a dream he had of a fabulous statue made of precious metals and gems… with feet fashioned from clay.
Well. My feet aren’t made of clay and they are definitely somewhat battered, but they serve their purpose well enough and get me from A to B. Still going to keep checking my shoes and socks though…