This post goes out to my friend Rich Small. He once told me that I should touch my toes every day for “health reasons ” (coming from a man whose middle name is “bacon”). I have tried it and it really does make a huge difference. I was advised to do it as soon as I wake up so that the blood will get-a-flowin’ and all of the muscles that hurt and ache are stretched properly. (Sidenote: Rich gives really good massages and once commented that I had the worst knots in my back ever (in his time as an amateur masseuse (I am so proud)).
Now, I don’t exercise like I should (or at all). Every now and again I do touch my toes, as advised by the bacon guru. I breathe in and out and yoga move myself (very slowly) up into the air, as if reaching for the sun, and then down to the bowels of the earth. I let my self hang there, feeling the stretch crawl from my brain through my back and buns, down my thighs and calves and into my soul (Oh look, a pun!). I slowly grow taller and feel as if I have awoken from a dream filled with rainbows, unicorns, leprechauns, and David Hasslehoff (The Night Rider Years). I rinse and repeat, keeping my eyes open this time and what do I behold… my awful feet!
Now I’m a lady… crude? Yes, but a lady nonetheless. This summer had been a dread for pedicures. Every time I would plan to get one I’d develop a blister, or get a million mosquito bites, or clip my toenails crooked or too short. There is no way I will go to a salon with an “open wound” sort of thing going on (A) becasue someone has to touch my feet and (B) I am not getting other germies that might be floating around in that little foot spa bath.
The worst is when I go to the nail salon and my feet are finally taken care of. I can hear and see my foot beautician cracking jokes about the amount of cuticle on my toes. Like… I see you showing that tool of yours covered in my skin to your co-workers… Everyone is laughing in another language and having a ding-a-ling-a-ding-dong-gay old time. Of course, I will be the first one to make a joke, but It’d be nice of you to include me in yours. I know I have skin filled toenails… why do you think I came here in the first place? Duh!
Needless to say, I have yet to have my feet taken care of by a professional this summer. I am ashamed. I was either too poor or suffered from the above ailments that deterred me from the professional toe-maintenance technicians. I do have my little foot scrubbie and relied on a late summer beach trip to help exfoliate all the hot mess that is down there, but my feet are a disaster. And yet I still (shamelessly) wear flip flops in public.
I heard somewhere that the minute you stop taking care of your feet is the minute your body starts dying. I also heard that your feet absorb everything. For instance, if you smash up garlic and put it in your socks, in about an hour your breath will smell like garlic. I have not yet tried that one, but I do spend more time worrying about my feet now that I am an “experienced” gal and have had years of wear and tear on these old dogs (yeah, I’ve been around a block or two). Growing up in boys shoes, I have developed a wide foot with a super high arch. Then I stuffed then into high hells and ballet slippers for a few years and what we now have is the beginnings of a Frankenstein foot (I am exaggerating, of course). I’d like to think my feet could one day be sexy, but unless you’re a fetishist, they are not and never will be. Oh, and they smell (because I hate socks).
If you don’t know, now you know (Biggie Smalls (he’s the illest, apparently (Would be as ill if he’d touched his toes everyday?))).
Keep watch over your feet, friends. They are important to your well-being; you use them everyday. They carry you to and fro like the the dance of the ocean. You follow them wherever they may lead you. Touch them often. Doing so will help your entire body (according to things that I read somewhere a while back and have no bibliography for you to reference). And do me and my pal Rich a favor and worship those dirty dogs every day. Bend over as soon as you get up and let the blood rush from your head to your toes and back again. And that was not meant to be dirty… I swear.
Every now and again get a pedicure (even you guys out there). Tell your feet, “I love you.”
Oh and now that it’s in your head…