Just the other night, after a long day, my lovely and long-suffering other half (let’s call him Mr T) offered to give me a foot rub. Awwwww. I’m not the biggest fan of feet in general, and certainly not my own, but perhaps that’s love for you. Anyway, there he is, massaging the oil, when I suddenly become aware of my toes. My *ahem* ‘hairy’ toes.
Before you click away in disgust, just give me a second here. On a scale of baby smooth to hobbit feet, I’m much closer to the baby and I am an averagely hair aware female (e.g. I shave my legs and armpits, get my eyebrows threaded and take care of my bikini line). When the time comes to wax my upper lip religiously, I’ll throw that into my beauty regime too. Hell, I’ll even take the odd nipple hair on the chin (as it were…), but I draw the line at toes.
Yes; that’s right, my feet are taking a stand.
I have friends who regularly shave their feet and toes. Girl friends. Friends who are girls. I suggest this is one step too far (ok, I’ll stop with the puns now). Don’t ask me for a good reason why this is my limit, it just is.
Maybe it’s because I’ve already given up my feet as a bad job. Maybe it’s because I’m fair haired. Maybe it’s because I just don’t care enough. Maybe it’s because I’ve realised that no one else really cares that much either. Or maybe it’s because it takes so much more effort to reach down that far with a razor…
I’ll never forget the shame I felt (years later, embarrassingly) when reminded of teasing a close friend at aged 13 for not having begun to shave her legs. She had, and still has, a corking pair of legs, and we were 13 for heaven’s sake – still in prep school uniform. And today, I’m well aware of the time it takes to depilate myself to my approval.
So, this summer, if you spot a girl wandering around in sandals with toes au naturale, give me a wave!