I woke late, yesterday morning and was frantically trying to get ready for work. Finally ready, I sprinted (lazily shuffled while picking out my eye boogers) into the living room, slammed my feet into flip-flops and headed for the door. It was then that I noticed one foot seemed.. wrong. But with a backpack (laptop) on my shoulder, a huge homeless woman purse on the other shoulder, I didn't bother to look down.
I thought to myself - I must have stepped on gum and it's making this flop feel wrong - and off I went!
Because I'm an incredibly nice caregiver (too lazy to cook), I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a rotisserie chicken & slaw for lunch. I started noticing that quite a few people were staring at my feet. How rude! And yet, even that didn't make me look down.
See y'all, I had both big toenails removed, years ago. Ingrown toenails are a hurty bitch. And while in surgery, they found bone curvature so whacked off about 1/4 an inch from each big toe. I've had years of people staring at my feet/toes. I barely notice this anymore. And yes, I am redneck enough to still wear flip-flops and sandals to show off the weird of my toes. Sometimes, I even have my daughter paint a little pink 'nail' on the skin to match the rest of my polished toes. :)
But back to the Flip-Flop Disaster of '09.
I started giving these staring people looks back. The -glare-. You know the one, Mama's. The glare you use on your breaking bad kids. The one that says - "If I have to pause my blogging & come up offa this chair, someone is gettin' an ass whoopin'."
Or the glare that says to the much prettier, sexier, thinner single woman checking out your husband for a bit too long - "I will cut you, hooker."
So, they're staring, I'm glaring and finally, I make my way to the check out. Where a teenaged boy is waiting to pay, too. A teenaged boy whose face looks like acupuncture gone wrong, he has so many piercings. His F'n earlobe is hanging lower than my boobs do because he has a spinner tire rim wedged into it.
And he is staring, fixated even, on my feet. I begin to have a heated, silent conversation with myself.
*this little shit wants to even glance at my poor, ugly toes and look disgusted?? This here was involuntary body modification, unlike that booger crusted tin skewered through your nose, heathen. Didn't his Mama teach him that staring is rude?? I should take my flip-flop off and smack him in the back of the head. Does this kid have a foot fetish, I wonder? I've heard about people like that..*
Finally unable to stand it a second longer, I hissed through clenched teeth, "WHAT are you staring at?!"
And he drawled, "Mayumm, you have two different flip-flops on."
A look down (finally) assured me that yes, I had one white, dressy flip flop with a wedge heel and one brown, everyday hillbilly on.
Here people.. was the reason why there was a hitch in my giddy-up. The reason why one of my ass cheeks was higher than the other. And WHY people were staring at my fucking feet!
I quickly hid my utter humiliation and leveled pierced boy with a snotty look before replying, "Obviously you didn't see the HUGE layout in Rolling Stone where Beyonce/Bono/Lil' Wayne/AND OPRAH were wearing their flip-flops just like this!
And then I stalked (gimped) off, leaving the chicken and slaw behind.
...and in the end
5 years ago