I don't understand foot fetishes.
I mean, not that feet are particularly more unsexy than any other part of the body. They're just kind of... awkward,
Is there an awkward fetish? Oh goodness, maybe there's hope that I won't die alone.
Anyways, the scene is senior year prom circa 2008. EVERYTHING MUST BE PERFECT. Not like I had anything stereotypically prom-ish planned, like losing my V-card in the back of a crappy car or winning homecoming queen. I coordinated a big group of about seven friends, all of us with our respective dates, for dinner, promming, and a girls-night-in movie extravaganza after. So of course, a lot of things went disastrous. But those are stories for a different day. Especially that time I had to be cut out of my dress. But I digress.
I went to the drugstore to get fake nails. Bad idea number one. I should have at least sprung for a decent set of acrylics instead of the $5 glue-ons. But I wanted to pretend I didn't have stubby, chewed to the quick stumps. I wanted to be a lady, dammit. Using regular nail polish over them hid the gooey glue patterns underneath, and my fingernails turned out looking pretty nice.
Right next to the fingernails they had FAKE TOENAILS. Bad idea number two for even looking at them. There were some really pretty french-manicure ones. T-minus 6 hours until dinner and prom festivities, and I had no hair appointment or spa appointment booked. My mom, cruel woman, reasoned that a $200 dress and tickets and everything else was more than enough expense for one night. But MOM, think of the facebook pictures! This is supposed to be the MOST IMPORTANT NIGHT OF MY LIFE. No avail. I was Cinderella, with no pumpkin or pedicure. This had to change.
I am no expert in ideal toenail length, so I just grabbed a decent-looking pack. It turned out to be the longest set of toenails in the store. BAD IDEA NUMBER THREE. These things stuck out a good 3/4 of an inch past my actual toes. I though they looked kind of cool in an avant-garde, Alexander McQueen way.
Then us girls had to do the stereotypical arms-in-all corsages picture, followed by the right-foot-in-to-show-off-shoes picture.
"WHAT IS UP WITH YOUR TOES?!"
My good friend the Italian saxophonist laughed. Everyone looked down at my feet. Wonder if there were any foot fetishists in the crowd? They certainly got an eyeful of the bizarre.
"They're fake toenails. It looks like a french manicure."
"THEY'RE SO LONG. AND SHARP."
"Okay maybe they're a little long, but it's prom and I can be outlandish for one night."
"OH GOD DON'T CUT ME WITH YOUR RAZOR TOES! THEY ARE SO FRIGHTENING. THEY LOOK LIKE TALONS. TALON TOES."
"Please stop yelling about my feet."
And so it went.
At prom, we all kicked off our shoes and danced like dancing fiends. Then we got ready to head over to some "after party" that had maybe two bottles of vodka and lots of coca-cola. Soooo badass.
As we were changing into our-post prom gear, I located my heels and put them on, looking at my feet in horror I realized...
Only my big-toenails were still attached. There were eight missing talons, scattered about the dancefloor. The big toenails were the longest, and next to my regular-sized toenails appeared to be vulture claws. Yank. Yank. Those suckers wouldn't budge. I couldn't cover them up with closed-toed shoes because they were TOO LONG TO FIT.
I hobbled off to the afterparty, talons probably scraping the floor at the point, and made an effort to sit at tables or stand in dark corners, lest someone glance down at my feet and run away screaming, fearful that I might claw their eyes out.
After 10 minutes of soaking in nail-polish remover the next day, they finally came off. I have never worn fake nails again... but the italian saxophonist still calls me razor toes.
|I am wearing the black shoes. Thankfully most of my toes are hidden by the grass, but can you see that big toe? TALONS!|