I was perusing facebook last night and a picture popped up in my news feed that almost made me vomit. I can't believe that I'm about to repost this picture, especially on my blog, but I really do need to face this, and what better way to do it than on the internet, with tons of witnesses, on a public blog, right? So here it goes....
|Picture courtesy of Theyfailed.com|
Oh good grief I can't believe this is on my blog.
Many of y'all see how a person turned a small foot deformity into a cute joke.
I see horror... on so many levels.
I have an anti-fetish. I'm not sure if that term even exists, but that's what I have. It's an anti-fetish about feet. I can't stand them. Feet are horrible. They are ugly, gross, scary, and disgusting. That's all feet, mind you. I don't discriminate between men and women's feet, don't care what color your skin is, or how old you are...
Except for babies. Babies' feet are cute. I will kiss all over a baby's feet until they start walking on them. Then, their feet instantly turn into these warped things created by the devil.
I know why I have this horrible anti-fetish about feet. No, I don't have a horror story from when I was a child of my foot getting caught in railroad tracks while the train was coming or anything like that. That would make my explanation a hell of a lot more understanding then what I'm about to say now...
I hate feet because they don't make sense. Yeah, you read that right. Feet, in my opinion, defy all laws of nature, and because of this, they weird me out worse than anything else in this world. To me, they are freaks of nature like snakes. Snakes have no legs and yet they move- not natural. Feet are, at the most, about 12 inches long, 6 inches wide, and can hold upright a 7 foot tall person, perfectly balanced and they don't fall on their face?
Get the fuck out of town. Seriously. Nothing about feet makes sense. There should be no way on this green Earth that 2 things as small as feet can even uphold a huge body, much less make it walk around. It'sbullshit... freaky, unexplainable bullshit.
Don't go trying to tell me about all of the bones and muscles and tendons and ligaments and blah blah blah that make up the foot or the entire human body that all work together to keep the human body upright and moving. I won't listen to you. I've heard it all before, and it doesn't change my mind one bit. Feet are not natural.
It's just human feet, too. Dogs' feet- understandable. Cats' feet- yep, I get those, too. With any 4 legged animal, I grasp the concept of even weight distribution between all 4 legs and feet, so it makes sense to me. But we 2 legged humans? Defies everything logical inside my head.
Now that I've told y'all about my anti-fetish, and why I have it, would you like to know just how bad my anti-fetish is? I'll make a list for you:
- I don't touch my kids' feet. I haven't touched my kids' feet since they started walking. If they have a cut or scratch on their foot, I come close to vomiting just putting a band aid on it. And forget it if they have a splinter. If I had to dig anything out of a foot... sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little.
- Y'all know I was a tattoo artist, right? If anyone came in wanting a foot tattoo, it was a minimum $150 before we even started talking about what the tattoo was. That's how much someone would have to pay me to touch a foot. If you want your toes tattooed, it'll probably start closer to $200. And that tattoo in the above picture? If that person had come to me, sat in my chair and taken their shoe off, as soon as I saw their toes, I would have gotten up and ran across the room screaming, "Someone beat it with the broom!! Kill it!" I wouldn't have even done that tattoo above. No $150 minimum, no $200 minimum. If you have deformed feet and you want me to tattoo the actual deformity, it'll run a minimum of $1000. I'm not even bullshitting you with that one.
- I barely touch my own feet. Yep, true story. I wait until my toe nails are almost grizzly before I'll cut them, I touch my toes long enough to pop them if my foot is in a hella spasm episode, and I don't wash the bottoms of my feet in the shower. Nope. I just let the suds work their way down, brush the loofah over the tops of my feet, flick the suds onto the tub floor and stomp around in the bubbles to clean the bottom of my own feet. I have it down to an art form, perfected by 31 years of not touching my own feet- don't judge.
- Hubby has had 1 or 2 foot rubs in his entire life, done by me. And it took everything in me not to vomit while I was doing those.
- I turn into the Incredible Hulk if anyone puts their feet near my face. Instant bitch switch flipped, I will break your leg at the ankle if you don't remove it immediately. My kids think this game is funny. They just love starting their feet about 18 inches from my face and going, 'Hey, mom, I'm gonna touch your face with my foot... Ha ha ha' as they move their foot closer and closer. They don't ever get closer than about 5 or 6 inches, because by that time I'm threatening their lives, and to never let them play another video game or watch another TV show until they've moved out of my house.
I really can't say exactly when this anti-fetish about feet started. The few foot rubs Hubby got were when we first got married, 13 years ago. So, that may have been the beginning of it. Becoming a tattoo artist made it worse. Always having to touch people's feet, draw on them, tattoo them... that's when the anti-fetish heavily grew.
I don't have a problem with other people touching my feet though. It's weird. I can get pedicures, Hubby can give me foot rubs (but he can't run his finger along my toenail- that freaks me out, too), my sister had to pick a piece of glass out of my foot one time- all fine with me. I don't know what in the hell the difference is, but I guess that's another thing that makes an irrational thought, well, irrational.
So there you have it, Inklingers. Some people have a weird thing about spiders. Others have a weird thing about textured foods. My weird thing? Feet. Don't like them, they are freaks of nature, won't deal with them. And in complete and utter honesty, with just writing this post, I'm shaking, broke out in a sweat, and definitely have a need to take one of my chill pills now. But hey- they say the first part of getting over or through something is admitting you have a problem, right?
Great. Maybe there's an anti-fetish about feet support group I can attend. Nope. They'd probably try some bullshit exposure therapy to try and help us out by having people put their shoeless feet all over us. Fuck that. I'll just keep hating feet. I'm perfectly fine with that, thank you.