Calling All Foot Pervs

Just going to put this out there: Foot Pervs. Pardon the pun, but they walk among us. They are lurking on Instagram, in particular. Twitter is obviously less visual -  I’m not sure 280 characters of descriptive foot text would have the same effect as a photo, and I’m not on Facebook so can’t comment on the likelihood of Foot-Perviness there. Instagram’s the place. They appear when any photograph including feet – whether shoed or unshoed (yes I made up words) is posted. And then they….well, let’s be honest, we do not wish to know what they do next.

I posted this article after finally facing the fear of admitting I had bunions. Whilst sharing it on social media, I naively included several hashtags relating to feet. Twenty minutes later a notification pops up: ‘BunionLover82 wants to send you a message’. Okaaaaaaayyyy. I’m thinking I probably don’t want to engage in a convo with BunionLover82. Maybe my instincts are wrong – maybe he’s a perfectly pleasant gentleman who is just being friendly and……NO. Just NO.

A few minutes later, another notification. ‘Footfetishxxx wants to send you a message’. Errrmmm…..block.

Oh – here’s another! ‘suckmytoepls wants to send you..…….’  OH BLOODY HELL.

And why are bunions such a draw? If you’re going to perv over someone’s trotters, wouldn’t you choose pretty, neat, less-lumpy feet? I’m not sure what the point of this post is, other than to raise awareness. Should we stop posting photos which include our feeton social media? I don’t think so. I mean, where would it end? Who’s to say there aren’t Elbow Pervs out there, getting all hot under the collar at pictures of forearms we inadvertently include in outfit shots? Or Knuckle Pervs, poring over people’s engagement ring snaps for entirely the wrong reasons? I am now seriously reconsidering my idea of a series of blog posts about annoying body-related issues, for fear of unwanted attention from those attracted by thinning eyebrows or errant facial hair.

Thinking about the foot thing - I remember reading years ago about a woman who made thousands selling old shoes on Ebay (okay, possibly not thousands, but quite a lot of money). She’d wear the shoes – usually cheap Primark flats – for weeks, in all weathers, until they were basically completely ruined. Then she’d sell them to someone willing to pay a ridiculous amount for a disgusting pair of old shoes. I feel sick thinking about it, and I’m not sure why I’m including it here – other than that if I have to think about it, then it’s only fair that you do, too.

Am I na├»ve to the seedy ways of the world, do you think? I don’t watch much Channel 4, so maybe I am.

The 40 Year Old Bunion

Behind the sparkle lies a horrific secret...

What is it about a beautiful pair of shoes that sets a gal’s heart racing? I’m a sucker for a pointed toe, a stiletto heel, and the suppleness of calf leather: a classic skyscraper court – that’s the dream. But these pointed pretties are not my friends, have never been my friends, and yet I’ve only recently come to accept this.

A few years ago (oh, go on then – it was twenty years ago) I took my shoes off at work. Can’t remember why, but the reason I exposed my feet to the world (i.e. two colleagues) isn’t important – the response I got from them is the issue here. ‘What’s wrong with your plates?’ one asked, recoiling. ‘Troll feet!’ shrieked the other. Peering down at said feet, I couldn’t quite understand what was so appalling about them. Sure, my feet were pale (I’ve never been a tanner) and my pedicure was a little chipped, but ‘troll feet’?! Seemed a bit much.

‘It’s that weird bony bit. Next to your big toe,’ my colleague helpfully pointed out. I quickly slipped my shoes back on and sat silently fuming at my desk for the rest of the day. Weird bony bit?! What does that even mean? And doesn’t everyone have that weird bony bit? Sure they do. Don’t they? Oh. OhThey don’t.

After that particular ridicule, I mostly kept my feet hidden from the cruel judgement of the general public. Strappy heels were out, sadly, and flip flops were a definite no no (less sad about this. I really hate flip flops). I grew used to describing my feet as ‘wide’, which isn’t so bad, I guess. I still bought LOTS of shoes, most of them hideously uncomfortable. I played the part, though; learning to stride on through the pain of bone rubbing against pleather, despite the blisters and callouses. Twenty years of this carry-on later, my feet could literally take no more.

In the back of my mind, hidden away, I think I always knew what the real situation was with my feet, but I was in denial. I’d seen the Daily Mail articles about Victoria Beckham. I’d watched Embarrassing Bodies. My feet weren’t just wide. Approaching aged 40, it was time to admit it *deep breath* : I have bunions.

There – it’s out there. It’s out there, and it’s not going back in. Just like my bunions, I guess. They’re hereditary, I reckon (thanks, Mam), since they’ve been there as long as I can remember. I don’t doubt the years of ill-fitting footwear did me no favours, but I don’t think they were the cause. So now that hurdle’s over, I have a new quest  - finding nice shoes to accommodate said bunions COMFORTABLY. (I say this because I’ve never had trouble finding shoes that I can get on – it’s the cheesegrater effect I experienced after a couple of hours wear that I’m so keen on). This quest is kinda addictive, like Fortnite. (NB: I have no idea what Fortnite is, I just put that in there so I sound less 40).

*For any fellow bunionites, I can totally recommend Calla Shoes, particularly the Charlotte flats. Honestly - the most comfortable shoes EVER.