Crawling From Under Your Feet

feet pictureHate is a strong word, and in most cases it’s too strong a word for me to use. However, there are a few things I have an aversion to in this world: whiners, spiders, liars, thieves and feet.

Today, I will talk about feet.

I am a foot-watcher. I look at people’s feet all the time. In fact, I could say that what I dislike about feet is my obsession with looking at feet. If exposed feet are within my field of view, my gaze immediately falls upon them. It’s an involuntary reflexive act and I don’t realize I’m doing it until after I have already fed upon my obsessive, compulsive need.

I admire pretty feet. Perfect toes make me smile. Babies’ feet, those are some amazing little eye-candy. It’s funny, how I can’t recall ever laying eyes on a baby’s foot that was ugly or rough or unsightly. They are soft and beautiful, no matter the child. I have found myself even reaching out to touch babies’ feet, just to remind myself that feet were not always the most disgusting features on the human body.

Most feet repel me. I see more of the ugly, misshapen, calloused and rough versions than I do the faultless ones. Toes that twist and bend in unnatural ways, or lengthy ones that curl off the end of the sandal to touch the earth below. Gnarled knuckles and bunions make me want to puke. So do rippled toenails hued jaundice yellow, whose thickness and texture would only liken to Ruffles® brand cheddar potato chips.

My father’s feet were not bad-looking, but oh my goodness, the smell would permeate the room in two seconds flat after removing his work boots at the end of a hard day. I would almost bet his socks would have stuck to the wall if I had thrown them at one. Yuck. The thought, the memory, of my dad’s feet jolts me back in time. He passed away years ago, and so did the stench.

My feet are not the ideal perfection I so often seek in the world. My second toe is slightly longer than my big toe (but it doesn’t hang off the end of my sandal). Once, when I was a little girl, a cousin once compared that second toe to her pinky finger. Snuggled together, side by side, they were the same length. I think I was eight or nine years old then, young enough to know embarrassment and avoided wearing sandals with open toes again until l was twenty-six years old.

Yes, I stare at feet. I admit it. Am I proud of myself? Definitely not. Maybe what I seek to find are those rare examples of natural beauty – so few among the masses – and from those I have seen, most are simply repulsive.

Will I ever find the cure to my rotten obsession? I often daydream of a day sometime in my future, where I can actually look someone in the eye when I’m speaking to them.

For now, all I can say with relative certainty is, “If you’re wearing sandals, I’m crawling from under your feet.”

P.C. Shoffner – ©2012

[This was an exercise from last year’s Gotham Writing Course’s Creative Writing Class. I had so much fun writing this one.]

Creative Commons License This work by Patricia C. Shoffner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Based on a work at http://www.virtuallyselfemployed.wordpress.com.

My Social Love Affair

100_2024“Money and Success is now following you…”

While scanning through my email in box yesterday, the phrase shown above caught my attention. I read through it a few times, my mind filled with purpose and intention. The words and I shared a brief exchange, a romantic interlude – Law of Attraction style – right there on the living room vision board.

I imagined briefly the myriad possibilities, wanton hopes and fanciful thoughts, allowing myself to fully experience the moment the universe would manifest its plan for us. As I read those words again now, they are just as satisfying and delicious as they were then.

Opening the email revealed the true meaning of it. Curiosity – and that poor, cute little fuzzy cat.

“Money and Success is now following you [on Twitter]”

I had to giggle and if my wide Cheshire grin was any indication, I had eaten a la petite curious cat for lunch.

Still invigorated by the heat and lingering aroma of sweat from my afternoon love affair, I realized that the universe had bestowed a gift upon me.

The day before had been an extremely long day, filled with one personal challenge after another. My goal was to educate myself in other Social Media applications and merge them into my new life as a freelance professional. Now “Virtually Self Employed” I felt the need to explore new areas of Social life and experience the culture. So I forced myself out into the world with the intent to play the field a bit.

LinkedIn and I met a couple of weeks earlier. Initially, I found myself bored and unsatisfied, running back into Facebook’s arms at every turn. But after getting to know one another I found myself appreciating who he is at the core and the purpose he serves. LinkedIn, Facebook I visit often and the three of us a have integrated nicely.

After putting on some fancy clothes and tightening my belt, I got right down to business with WordPress. I had read somewhere that building a relationship with a website or blog would make an honest woman out of me and I would quickly climb the ranks in Google. It took a while to make it the magic happen, but hit the dashboard running. WordPress and I happily bonded and we are expecting the arrival of our first domain any day.

Then I met Twitter. Life moved quickly at a downward angle after he forced me to sell myself a thousand times over, one click at a time. I was not able to satisfy that Social beast. It was so exhausting. After a Twitter Tantrum nuclear meltdown and humiliated after throwing a Twit right there in the middle of our Tweet, my hands flew up in defeated surrender. Battered, bruised and torn, I Twit and I left. And after cooling off and a short separation, Twitter and I worked through our differences and got the job done.

I realize now why my attraction was so strong with email. After reconsidering my history with Twitter, I needed to see those words to realize it had been worth the effort. I know now that the affair with email was born of fantasy, not from my heart.

I am grateful for the lesson and experience and can now appreciate the message the universe was sending to me.

P.C. Shoffner – ©2013

Creative Commons License
This work by Patricia C. Shoffner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at http://www.virtuallyselfemployed.wordpress.com.