My feet are in piss-poor shape. Rough and chapped, the heels cry out for moisture and care that I just don’t have to give. The toenails are even worse – ragged and shredded, because instead of properly clipping them I tend to just tear off the ends in idle moments of barefoot daydreaming. Even in the summer, when sandals and poolside lounging might put them on semi-public display, they don’t get much more pampering than that, and it shows.
Last year, however, with the happy advent of my first manicure, I was also told to concentrate on my feet as well, and while I’m not quite ready for my first pedicure, it’s on the distant horizon, so I need to get my soles in order. To that end, I’m starting with the heels and moving outward, beginning with some basic moisturizing lotion before sliding into my socks. It’s a little moment of self-care and indulgence that I’m simply going to embrace in my middle-age. Life affords a few more comforts in consolation for growing older and dealing with other discomforts.
As for the foot fetishists out there, I see you, I hear you, and I honor your prayer. Bottoms up for the unabashedly kinky: to thy own sole be true. (And if your hidden proclivity is getting off on feet, I’d say that’s one of the more harmless kinks in this day and age; I will not be volunteering more extreme examples..)
{This blog post has been brought to you by Shameless Clickbait, FeetFinder, and Thirst-Trap (Feet-Don’t-Fail-Me-Now remix).} Now everybody cut footloose!
