De-Feetist Attitudes

Don't tell anybody, but I have really ugly feet. (There's a reason you've never seen Mrs. Potato Head without her shoes on.) Luckily, I believe in function over form, and my wide, oddly shaped, calloused lower paws are perfect for yoga and squatting in rice paddies to birth big babies (should I ever decide to go to Asia to give birth to what would be my own grandchildren).

But even my hideous feet become things of beauty after a pedicure. There are few views I enjoy more than the one I see when I gaze downward at my newly polished toes -- the pinker the better. Add on the bonus of approximately twenty-four hours during which the scales on my heels disappear and carpet fibers don't cling to my feet as if they're made of Velcro, and I am literally walking on air.

In the months before my father died, I would occasionally rub his feet when I visited. His body was being ravaged by cancer, but his feet remained as soft as, well, a baby's behind, as if he had somehow spent his life being carried everywhere. He did spend a lot of time riding in his Caddy, but he was hardly a pampered prince. He worked hard all his life, up until the day he could no longer hold his head up to do business on the phone. But oh those feet. Like butter. I was rubbing them the day before he died, as his body was shutting down. They say we die from the extremities in, but, as close as he was to the end, he felt the foot massage, and he didn't want me to stop. I wish I hadn't.

Today, my daughters and I will be getting our pre-vacation pedicures, and our toenails will be painted in various shades of pink. My feet will never look as pretty as theirs, but then again neither will the rest of me, and I can deal with that. My feet will still be wide, misshapen, and, by the time we hit the beach, calloused, but I will nevertheless be quite content when I gaze down to look at my shiny pink toes.

I won't want my children to rub my feet when I am dying; I don't want them to have bloody abrasions on their hands at my funeral -- so tacky. But I might request a final pedicure, so as I take my final breaths, I can at least enjoy the view.