Adventures at the Foot Doctor by Confessions of a Corn Fed Girl
I always thought I could have a career in foot modeling if this writing gig didn’t work out. I love cute shoes and my feet are pretty decent, as feet go. With the exception of my slightly cartoonish second left toe that was obliterated by a 1,000 pound horse, my feet are one of the more attractive parts of my body. I even have a toe with a beauty mark. I call her Cindy Crawford.
But that cute, oh-so-photogenic beauty mark on my big toe had been growing. And I was having some chronic foot pain. So I embraced my age of Almost 40 and did the responsible thing; I took myself to the foot doctor.
I walked into the examination room, removed my shoes, cracked some jokes with the nurse and waited on the table for the Doc. In anticipation for fondling of my limbs by strangers, my feet broke out into a cold sweat. My hands do the same thing at church right before the Sharing of Peace, because nothing says “I want only good things for you” quite like a sloppy wet palm and a slight case of hives.
My gaze fell upon my left big toe and Cindy. Much like your “period underwear”, what had started as a barely noticeable dot had grown into a large brown spot that could no longer be ignored.
ABOUT JOHI: Johi was raised on corn and pork in the great state of Iowa. She relocated to Colorado, where she enjoys reading, take-out, eating, art, wine, the great outdoors, most animals, remembering the past incorrectly, licking glass and pecking at shiny things. In my spare time she mothers two young boys and does laundry. She also shares her home with a husband, two naughty dogs, two adorable ponies and a smelly cat. She writes at the blog Confessions of a Corn Fed Girl.
CONTINUE READING IN THE BEDROOM