Manhattan Offender

If I get pretty enough, he wondered, then will they love me?

Sandalous behavior

In the off chance you had a foot fetish that involved me, hopefully the picture herewith has put such thoughts to an end.  Although the stitches are more than three weeks removed, the scar tissue from my toe injury persists.  Previously, the nerve-packed excess skin covered one half of the big claw.  Now in remission, it still hurts like a mutha.

Because of this, I have not worn shoes since July 3rd.  While on Fire Island, I was dependent on the sandals of a housemate.  Back in the city, a very fashionable pair of Paul Smith's have become a constant accessory.  (A trip to Juno, increasing my sandalage to two pair.)

I've often noticed women on rainy days wearing open-toed shoes and thought, "What was she thinking?"  In my new reality on a rainy day not only am I in sandals, but I also accessorize with a lovely plastic bag, taped around my ankle.  Isn't karma lovely?

Thursday brings a final trip to my gay doctor to remove any remaining dead skin.  When asked last week if it was going to hurt, he answered with a long scientific explanation of how the tips of the fingers and toes not only are packed with nerves, but, being the nerve endings, tend to overcommunicate to the brain.  And then he advised me to take a Percocet or two beforehand.

Once the toe has healed, please continue the disinterest in foot fetishes that involve me.  Because that's disgusting.