Watch Your Step

My boyfriend has a thing about feet.

Now that I've typed that, I realize that sounds  little dirty.  But I assure you it's not.  Unless the feet are dirty.  And in that case...I guess it is.

He cannot stand ugly feet, something that I have never even thought about before I met him.  While I am a person who takes into account someone's smile upon meeting them or their sparkling personality...if the weather is nice, you can be sure that your feet is the first thing Mike is looking at.  And then he determines whether or not he can hang out with you.

I didn't know this when I first met him and I'm grateful for the fact that we began dating when the weather was cold.  Not because I have ugly feet (or then again...maybe I do).  But I would have worried about putting my best foot forward on that first date (so to speak).  And if I hadn't had time to get a pedicure, I might have canceled it.  And then the two of us as a couple may have never come to be.

His foot fetish has started to bleed over into my own life.  When I'm reading my US Weekly or People magazine, I'm likely to comment on how someone looks or the beautiful dress a woman wore to a premier.  And often, that comment is met with a sharp intake of breath.

"Ugly feet," I'll hear him mutter.  "Toes are too long.  Crooked.  Turn the page!"

And then I'll never look at that previously flawless actress the same again.

Summer is a particularly difficult time for him.  Some men, in particular, will cause Mike to stop dead in his tracks and stare (something that he swears he doesn't do, but I assure you he does).  If the feet are bad enough (hairy with yellowing chipped toenails), he may require us to shift our path or find a new restaurant.  I will assume, in the moment, that it's because of something entirely unrelated to feet.  Until he happens to mention, "Did you see the feet on that guy?"  And then I know that our day has been altered by Sasquatch toes and gnarly nails.

You might think that this would make me self-conscious, but it doesn't.  I was blessed with narrow, perfectly proportioned feet (the only thing narrow or perfectly proportioned on my body, by the way).  I could probably walk in the door with my head shaved and a tattoo of Justin Bieber on my forehead...but as long as my feet look the same (and when I want to treat him...have toenails polished in O.P.I.'s "Not Just A Waitress")...I have job security in the girlfriend department.

No so bad.  A girl likes to know where she stands.