So I’m left with reminiscing about the man I’ve recently met who saw my apartment in total disarray a few days ago, otherwise known as abs of steel (AOS) to my friends. Provocative, charming, talkative and reads a lot. We get along splendidly.
The other day as we were discussing life and the struggles we’ve been going through being unemployed, AOS complemented me on my “beautiful feet” with their long toes and high arch. Strikingly, neither man nor woman has ever made notice of my feet, except for my mother who longs to find similarities between us wherever she can.
Laying there minimally clothed I looked at him perplexed. AOS nonchalantly adds: Amazing no one has ever complemented them before (he definitely knows how to disarm a woman). Just the podiatrist I was thinking but he doesn’t count. Stunned I reply: Well…no. No one has ever noticed my feet. Maybe they were just too busy noticing my boobs and ass. So today on lazy Sunday sitting on the couch I am obsessed with my feet. They are smooth, recently polished, in need of a tan but actually very nice. Now, can I get a massage, please?
No comments:
Post a Comment