But I hear you, women who are ashamed of your feet. Fear not, for I am one of you. [New York Times]
It all started back when I was 14-years-old and caught the hand, foot and mouth virus at summer camp. The hand, foot and mouth virus is similar to the chicken pox, except the infected person only gets the pox on the palms of their hands and feet, as well as sores in their throat. I was the only kid at camp who had it, so I was the only one everybody stared at to watch as the pox turned to blisters and the blistered turned to popped blisters with pus oozing everywhere. The largest pus-y blisters—and I mean quarter-sized—were on my feet and they’d chafe whenever I walked.
Trust me, being the girl at summer camp with pus-y blisters oozing off her feet is enough to scar you for life. Yet the situation with my feet only worsened my junior year of college, when I picked up a nasty case of athlete’s foot. I’d had athlete’s foot before, but this one was definitely some demon breed on steroids. My toes and toenails were so so itchy, painful and uncomfortable that little cracks formed on my skin, which started to bleed. My mom took me to our family doctor, who shrugged and told me there isn’t much you can do about foot fungus except put some cream on it and try keep your toes clean and dry. The doc acted like it wasn’t a big deal—in fact, he told me just to pain my toenails bright red and forget about it—but I felt just felt so dirty, like my toes were rotting.
I think this is where my OCD-ish behavior over having clean feet started. I became obsessed with not having germs on my feet. After I took a shower, I would meticulously dry the soles of my feet and between my toes with a towel, which I would then toss in the laundry basket. Putting the “dirty” towel in the laundry was really, really important. I began to wash and dry my feet definitely before bed, but sometimes after coming home from class and before bed.
I once walked around my dorm barefoot, but I began to wear socks indoors all the time. I would only go barefoot inside or on top of my bed, which I decided was a “safe” area, and I didn’t want socks or shoes which might have touched the floor and gotten germs on them, on my bed. And I threw lots of pairs of socks that might have germs on them away. Come summer time, I began to wash my feet every night before bed because I hated the idea of tracking dirt into my bed.
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