WOES WITH MY TOES

AND BAREFOOT FETISHES TOO!

I love going barefoot! This is Florida the laid back sunshine state where people come to play or die; usually both. It’s kind of a sacrilege NOT to go barefoot! After all we’re the land of the Barefoot Mailman. Shoes are confining!

Unfortunately, my love of going barefoot has cost me several of my toenails over the years. Darn it! It’s happened again!

As I was watching the last climactic 15 minutes of a movie, I suddenly found myself sitting in pitch darkness! I thought I’d lost electricity! But I heard the refrigerator running. Then I noticed my clock-radio was still on in the kitchen. I made a beeline for the nearest light switch. Yeoww! Ouch! Ouch! My pinky toe! It must have struck the bottom of the sofa! I flicked on the light. My toenail was bleeding and turning purple... Now it is black!

I’ve been thru this before (a few times) so I know what to expect. The nail doesn’t drop off. A healthy pink one grows under the black, with an elevated ridge separating the two. Several people told me they would never grow in normal looking again. – They were wrong!

During my childhood, before religion was removed from public schools, we learned Bible tales right along with the three R’s. In Biblical times washing a guests feet, then massaging them with olive oil was quite common. This sounded sensual and alluring to me.

Now, I am not someone who likes others messing with any part of my body! I hate going to hairdressers, even. But I would make an exception for my feet! Twice, I’ve had full body massages and both were a waste of money! My head was lodged in some type of cushion that looked like a toilet seat. On the last occasion, a eucalyptus pad was at the bottom, inhaling it gave me a sinus headache! I jerked it out and instructed the masseuse to remove it from my presence. Afterward, I endured icky grease being rubbed into my skin.

The only place I enjoyed the massage was on my feet, where they spent the least amount of time! For what I was paying, each toe should have been massaged individually. That would have been sublime! -- All I ask is that they keep my toes out of their mouth!

Friends told me that you receive a wonderful foot massage with a pedicure. -- NO YOU DON’T! What you get is similar to restaurants pouring hot water over your spent, soggy teabag. Your 2^nd cup tastes like piss water! Those pathetic little pedicure messages are over in seconds. The fact they can charge $20 for this and then expect a tip is just a rip-off! – And I can clip and paint my nails faster and better, too!

Clearly, I am NOT a spa person! If I won the lottery tomorrow they wouldn’t make 1 dime off of me!

My idea of fun is a big sheet of bubble wrap! I double it over and stomp on it with my bare feet as they do with grapes. It sounds like the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre!

In the early 1970’s, the year I turned 23, I lost BOTH big toenails just weeks apart in separate accidents. The 1^st was the worst and most memorable. I was busy taking phone orders in our family florist business. My shoes were off under my desk. A wedding was scheduled in our chapel later that evening. My father was getting ready. He pulled a lengthy, cylinder-shaped vacuum across the carpet. One of my calls happened to be for a designer in the back room. I walked around my desk to yell out to her. The heavy vacuum was dragged right over my foot. Blood gushed forth as I shrieked and screamed!

“Don’t bleed on the carpet!!!” my father kept hollering.

“The hell with the damn carpet!” I told him, angrily. “I am in pain!” A near-by designer rushed over with paper towels.

Still bleeding, I returned to taking phone calls. The next one happened to be my dad’s mistress and my future step-mother. Between ouches, I related the incident.

“What were you doing standing in the way?” she snapped. In other words, this accident was all MY fault! Grrrrr! I was tempted to slam the phone in her ear!

Just two weeks later, I was racing thru the kitchen forgetting that the floor had been waxed! Slipping and sliding, I crashed hard against a wall! My other big toe took the brunt of it. Now I was left with 2 sore, black toenails!

I was leaving for Mexico the following week, along with my father and his mistress! -- This was the trip we all slept together in a king-size bed, me between them!

Just days prior to leaving, I was forced to purchase a new pair of shoes, with open toes. These had lots of straps and seemed comfortable in the store. However, this was not the case when climbing pyramids and other ruins with steep, long steps that were better suited for rolling dead bodies than walking.

We left our Mexico City hotel early and took a cab out to explore the Aztec ruins. This area was vast and filled with a fascinating history. I was enjoying the day despite my pain. I had not the chance to break in my shoes before the trip. I would have been better off going barefoot, there!  

After we returned to our hotel in the late afternoon, blood had dried and caked all around my shoe straps. Dad had to take his knife and cut them off my feet.

For the remainder of the trip, I wore over-sized plastic thongs purchased in a shop around the block. These were the only comfortable shoes I could wear. Wherever we went, people stared at them.

For the trip home, we changed planes twice. First, we caught a small airplane in Acapulco right before dawn. (Watching the sun rise atop the mountains over Acapulco Bay is a memory I will always cherish.) Back in Mexico City we caught our plane to Miami. Boarding these planes, I suffered in closed- toed shoes, which I removed instantly upon seating.

The nails on my 2 big toes grew back just fine! And my pinky toe will too!