Cracked around the edges, dry and peeling in multiple areas – an often-dirty testament to the distance I’ve travelled and the shoes I’ve worn. My feet.
In general, the only source of pride derived from these magically complex little transporters of mine are my manicured toenails. Aside from that, they’re like most other feet – pretty fucking gross. Although, I can usually (actually, always) be sure they are nicer to look at than my father’s, sorry dad.
However, for one man, they seemed to be a blissful phenomenon of divine nature.
The feet in question.
Before Emma and I conjured WitchSlapped, we ran another style blog called Broke: The Blog. We started the summer before our fourth year of university. The blog documented our struggle to be stylish with little money and an Arctic climate to deal with. We were new to the blogging world and trying to reach as many readers as possible. So, whenever we received an email notifying us of a new comment, Em and I got pretty damn excited.
We loved receiving feedback (and still do!!) but, to our dismay, a large chunk of these comments were from the same man who seemed in dire need to inform us of the beauty to be found in my feet.
Here are some of the most entertaining/peculiar comments:
His remarks were so frequent that it reached a point where, knowing I had recently posted an outfit wearing sandals, we were reluctant to read the new comments.
We decided enough was enough. My feet may have trafficked quite the number of page views from pediphiles, but it was getting boring and the blog was about celebrating personal style, not my goddamn feet.
We did some investigating. Our foot pundit was also artless. He was clearly unaware that his username was visible each time he posted a comment. Emma recognized the name his username disclosed. It belonged to a well-dressed, charming, young professional she had met at an event in the city earlier that year. She texted him, and he confirmed that he was the menacing commentator. The foot comments were anonymous thereafter.
We were quite shocked. This seemingly respectable, unassuming young man spent his days working a reputable job, his nights out partying like the rest of us and his free time in between trying to convince a similarly respectable young woman to make an entire blog of her feet, for his entertainment.
A few months later, Mr. Foot-Lover denied that he was commenting, and even tried to convince us someone must’ve taken his phone to reply to our inquisitive message.
The whole thing is quite hilarious – I mean, WTF ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE. But it does speak to the more general, looming problem of male entitlement online. The Internet should not be a space for men to sit and bash out their “superior views,” giving advice most recipients don’t actually want, and eagerly sharing their cyberspace cravings. But unfortunately, this is generally the case.
Rest assured, I won’t ever create a blog that solely exhibits my feet for his personal wank bank but I will stomp all over foot fetish dreams, with immaculately manicured toenails.