Recently I had the opportunity to visit one of those beauty shops that do peoples feet & nails. You know the type of shop – they smell like bad vodka and are often full of girls paying lots of money to look good for boys who wont notice the  details.

My mum, God bless her, thought my feet needed a good going over. Now I am not going to lie to you, my feel were freaking disgusting. My heels especially had layers and layers of thick, hard skin. I could litterally take off chunks of skin. I had big cracks in them and really, they were repulsive. Add that to my ‘hello boys’ little toe, my feet were something to behold.

So my mum (who is a saint, let me say), took me to one of those places. Now let me say that before I went, I thought guys who went to those types of places were a bit ’nuffy’. I actually still think that. Well, all the guys except for me, even though the nice lady at the front desk assured me they had lots of men come into her shop. Lots of men, just not that night!

They called my name out, I went and sat in one of those big chairs, I took off my shoes and socks and put my feet in that foot hot spa. So far so good. After about 30 minutes of foot-spa-ery the nice girl walked over and pointed to my left foot and sat infront of me. Now to be honest, I had to assume that she wanted me to take my foot out of the water.

This is where it got interesting.

I took my foot out, following the non-verbal instruction from the nice girl. I rested my foot on the towel. The nice girl looked at my foot. Now you know the look, when you are at the public pool, and you see mothers hold their kids close when they see a turd in the pool? Well that was the look that I got. This poor girl almost gasped when she saw my disgusting feet. And yes, they were disgusting. Just wet now. Then she said something in her language. Within seconds, all the eyes in the place were on my feet. Even the Aussie girls who did not speak this nice girls language knew exactly what she was speaking about. She was horrified at my mank feet. I had about 20 pairs of eyes, looking like they had just seen a turd in the pool.

Not only was I the only sausage in the nail shop, I had by far the mankest feet there. The girl next to me was having a similar treatment, except without the gasping.

Now I am not going to lie to you – I think I am not that bad in the looks department. But for that 30 minute experience, I felt ugly. It was a terrible feeling. It was sobering. And I could tell that I was being treated differently because of it. I was being looked down upon because of a physical defect.

After my ‘treatment’, my feet actually looked fine. And even if they didn’t, I could hide them in shoes. No one would know about  my disgusting feet. But it got me thinking. How have I treated people that look ‘different’? Did I make them feel like I did in that nail salon? I was ashamed of myself.

So yes, I had dead skin peeled off my feet with a razor, but I also had an attitude ripped of my soul, too. I felt so belittled, having people look at me because I was different. I have resolved not to look at the outside, instead, try to see the  inner beauty in all those around me.


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