Feet

Today, I had an epiphany. A shocking one, but an epiphany nevertheless.

I looked at my feet.
They were....unlike the rest of me...really quite gross. I won't go into details, because I just ate lunch and would rather not waste my $8 gourmet sandwich - which is better in my stomach than on my jeans. (TMI much? yeah....whatever)

Conclusion: feet are gross.

Is that a generalization?

Not really. Almost everyone I know complains about their feet. I know one person who demands that everyone hide their feet under a blanket because she can't stand the sight of them. Foot fetishists must be really twisted people. I could cure them of their fetish by showing them my tootsies. In fact, I could probably make podiatrists out of them by shoving my foot in their faces.

Still, this does mean that I am eager to cover the evidence. Today, the evidence is covered with Steve Madden. Yesterday, it was covered with black leather gore-tex riding boots. The day before, ditto. At home, I am partial to Ugg slippers or these funky Chinese things my mum brought back from somewhere in Asia.

My total expenditure on shoes is only second to that on Dean and Deluca's chocolate babka. I swear that stuff must have been made by the devil and infused with temptation in edible form. I am pretty disciplined about desserts these days but I have been known to polish off an ENTIRE babka in one sitting. Cinnamon - meh. Chocolate - irresistible.

But hey, I'd rather have gross feet than a gross face.

This has nothing to do with carbs. However, it is still a dilemma. Of not insignificant proportions.

Tomorrow: My thoughts on people who walk around food shops and compose entire meals of samples. I admit to doing that at COSI the other day. Ten samples of chocolate bagel later, I wondered why I had bought anything. Also, my experiment in doing so at a major food outlet in New York.