I don’t like feet. I don’t have a phobia or anything like that, but I do not like people touching me with their feet or touching other people’s feet. I don’t really like anyone touching my feet either, but foot massages just feel so damn good.
Ryan’s feet are some of the ugliest feet I have ever seen. His toes are all different shapes and sizes and his 3rd toe is longer than my pinky finger. I do have small hands, but even so, that is a freakishly long toe.
A story I often tell – and just told last weekend involves what I thought was an endearing moment between me and Ryan. It was very early in our relationship, probably within the first 6 months, and Ryan and I were sitting in our little apartment watching TV. I was sitting on the floor and he was lying on the couch behind me…running his fingers through my hair.
We were talking about something and I turned and looked up at him as he laid on the couch, his hands behind his head. He was combing my hair with his feet! YUCK! He, of course thought it was funny. I did not.
What stemmed this whole post about feet was who else, but Rory! He chose to eat his snack mix with his feet.Since everyone else has had their feet and disgusting activities displayed here. Here is a picture of my foot. No one ever tells me my feet are ugly, but they do tell me that they are freakishly small. And I guess they are, but I would rather have teeny tiny feet than finger toes.
My toes are so small and close together I can’t wear Vibrams. I also can’t use those toe separators that they sell to paint your toenails – it feels like my little piggies are getting ripped apart.
That reminds me…Rory and I were reciting “This Little Piggie Went To Market” the other day. I asked him if he knew what a market was. He lied and said he did and then retracted it and said he didn’t. I told him it was like a grocery store. He changed his rhyme to “This little piggie went to Ralph’s…”