Gurrrlll, You Got Some Stinky-ass Feet

I inherited many things from my father, including his work ethic of a mule, sneezes that echo for miles, giant eye balls, a fondness of home brew, and, apparently, his stinky-ass feet. Yesterday I made my annual visit to that doctor that all women must eventually see. Bleh. Its not that I dislike going to my doctor – but nobody likes to get naked, lay on a board for several hours draped in a paper dress and have someone take a bright light and metal poker to their nether regions. But we must all do it – it’s just plain good for ya.

So on this day, I make the mistake of wearing my favorite shoes – a pair of Sketchers that are like a cross between a mountain climber shoe and slipper. They are very comfortable. The only problem with these shoes is that, since I have to wear them without socks, they tend to make my feet smell horrid. And by horrid, I mean knock the wind out of you horrid. This is esp. true when I’ve worn them for a few days in a row without washing the insoles. I didn’t really think about it until I step into that little pre-game room where they take your vitals, blood, etc. The nurse instructs me to take off my shoes so that she can weigh me and I think….Oh Holy God…what have I done? I slowly slip them off and quickly jump on the scale, looking nervously at the lady. As she takes my weight (good news – I lost 5 pounds!!) and height, I start to catch a whiff of the scent. I’m absolutely horrified!! As soon as she is done, I put the bloody things back on and notice she’s rubbing her nose. I’ve nearly killed the nurse with the stench of my dad’s hand me down feet.

I’m completely panicked by the time I get to my actual room because I realize – my feet are going to be propped up RIGHT NEXT TO my doctor’s head. All you ladies out there know what I’m talking about. How ridiculous would it be for me to keep my shoes on – when the rest of me is buck naked wrapped up in a large, moo moo shaped paper towel? What to do, what to do…..I search the room for anything that can help and it occurs to me – the room has a sink! So, as quickly and neatly as possible – I lift my big, nasty feet up to the sterile counter and start washin. When I’m done – I’ve left a huge puddle all over the floor that has to be mopped up with about 30 paper towels. I had just finished cleaning up my mess when I hear the knock on the door. Safe. I take my place on the gyno-throne and get ready for party time. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized I had thrown my paper towel mess into the garment-only bucket. Oh well, by the time they clean that thing out, I’ll have been long gone.

P.S. Those who know me may not question why I have troubles keeping a boyfriend – with conversations such as this. But hey – I’m woman enough to admit when my shit stinks…