Meet you behind the bike-shed.

It's a foot long

12:38 PM, Wednesday, September 3, 2008 .. 0 comments .. Link

Feet. Do you like yours? I have to say mine are a bit too long. They’re like those DIY limos which are just ordinary cars, cut in half, and an extra straight bit welded in to lengthen them. My feet too go straight in the middle – they’re a bit plate-like.

Now my ex had lovely feet, like a tricky racecourse - all curves, no straights – yet she hated her feet and I could never figure out why. Mind, she had a few peculiarities like that. For example if you touched her belly-button she would scream. She wouldn’t even clean it in the bath – there’s probably lint in there turning into diamonds… And her hair! Her hair sometimes made me wonder if she was really an alien. It was the most elastic hair I have ever seen – I couldn’t resist playing with any rogue ones that fell out. You could have made an excellent catapult out of what could be garnered from her hairbrush…

Anyway – feet. They play a peculiar role. Foot-fetishism is well-documented, but why on Earth does it exist? Tits, arses… perfectly understandable… but feet? How does that work? Is it perhaps those curves? Is the curvaceous foot a subconscious stand-in for a curvaceous body? I guess that could work for a man.

But what about women? Could my long feet bring me some welcome interest, hmmm? And women love shoes – and men don’t. Could that be women transferring their imagined and perfected self-image on to a shiny, curvy, red slingback?

This is quite exciting stuff. I think I’d better focus on gnarled wobbly knees for a while to calm me down.

Herbert Mangle, the great Wallsend poet and hypothetical vegetarian, once wrote:

O how I worship your plates of meat

In slingbacks red they stride the street

Your body’s curves mirrored so neat

If you should go – can I keep your feet?

Meet you behind the bike-shed.

It's a foot long

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