This morning I engaged in my daily routine of reading Cosmopolitan on the Snapchat app. One particular feature story of today seized my attention- a listicle encouraging women that their bodies are already beautiful and require no extra fine-tuning to have confidence to wear a bikini, or any swimsuit, for that matter. Number seven on the list called out readers who looked at certain parts of their bodies with disappointment. The Cosmopolitan writer remarked that while women may not always love those parts in swimsuits, it does not mean that those are “problem areas” that need to be changed. 

Despite the fact that this article was about refining bikini-body-mindsets, my mind instantly thought about my feet. I know, probably not the body part that the author was expecting readers to reflect upon. However, I have rather ugly feet. Not that I consider feet in general to be attractive, but I think that my feet are exceptionally unattractive. They are extremely flat, blistered and in a dire need of those magical fish that eat dead skin right off of your feet [an experience that takes priority on my life bucket list]. 

Lately I have recieved some slightly harsh, yet truthful, remarks about the condition of my feet from outside sources. Granted, two of these sources were my ten-year-old and six-year-old brothers, but children are fairly truthful creatures [unless it comes to cookie jars and the blame game].

 I do not tend to dwell upon negative thoughts about my feet on a daily basis, yet for whatever reason I have lately felt rather silly for any unkind foot-thoughts that do manage to pass through my brain. 

When I read that article, I felt the full wrath of a foot-gratitude-conviction smack me. My feet work wonderfully. Sure, the occasional foot cramp leaves me crippled on the floor in brief anguish, but my feet work miracles. They have taken me everywhere I wanted to go since I learned that they work better for walking upon rather than sucking upon. They have been faithful/healthy through every season of my life, and I am incredibly thankful for that. 

They have walked with/under me as I have reached my highest moments of joy. 

They have carried me through valleys that I was sure I would never climb out of.

Possibly more than any other body part, my feet reflect my mental and emotional state. 

  • When I am anxious, I tap my feet.
  • When I am in need of leaving, they move me away.
  • When I am stuck in a dark rut of life, they pick me up and keep progressing forward. 
  • When I am deeply happy, two of my toes cross together and form a link without me even realizing. 

So, I have come to the enlightening idea that I want to experience life more closely with my feet. I’m sure that sounds crazy, but as I posted before, this blog is my experimental experience. If I can’t experiment about writing on the topic of my own feet, than what feet can I write about? 

Stay tuned, there will be some fee(like feet!)-nomenal times ahead [feel free to laugh sympathetically with my  embarrassing  attempt at being punny].