Friday, August 7, 2015

Size Eight Feet

I am the proud owner of a pair of sparkly plastic Jellies. They were very cheap and do not absorb water and so I thought they would be absolutely perfect for the Edinburgh Fringe. It rains for a little bit most days in Edinburgh, and then as soon as it finishes the sun comes out and everything is stunning again before the darker rain clouds roll over again. For this reason, I favour the plastic shoe. My feet may well get a good rinse every day, but they are non absorbant and therefore dry rapidly when the sun comes back.

Except, it hasn't rained me the last two days and my feet are still soaking.

From my own rancid, unexpected and totally unwelcome, foot sweat.

I have condemned my tootsies to a mouth of greenhouse living in which they are shrivelling and baking in equal measure. How did I live until the age of 28 never knowing it was possible to get conversation from your toes?

I wouldn't mind, but I spend my entire show panicking that someone is going to notice and call me out as being a gross little bint. Who knew so much liquid could come out of a foot? Aren't they 99% bone? What if it starts flowing out the gaps on the side and I am just trickling a trail of foot liquid behind me as I traipse across the stage?

Of course the other, even less desirable side effect of plastic shoes is that the hairs on your toes and feet get caught on the plastic and you end up giving yourself a mini waxing session every time you break out into a trot.

Yeah yeah, I know women aren't meant to have hairy feet but I DO so there. They are tiny little hobbit things and the hair is much much worse these days because of all the teenage evenings I spent sitting in shaving them into a fine stubble.

Stupid hairy sweaty feet are ruining my vibe.

My clear plastic glittery jelly shoes were meant to help me feel like I was walking on air; not have me hobbling around wincing at the plucking and sploshing through the cider I'm sweating out of my soles.

I'm considering installing some of those feet eating fish in a wonderful mix of 70s iconic platform homage and mid 20Teen fish craze practicalities. I have a feeling they won't last much longer than the introductory few minutes of the show. The poor bastards. That water would have more toxins than the Thames.

I may go looking for more sensible shoes next week. First, however I'm going to see whether all this extra foot sweat helps me to lose any weight while I'm pounding around Edinburgh. I think itd be fun to have weirdly shrunken feet; like one of those voodoo heads but the other end.

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