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A day in my life
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Source:
Adults
Author:
Rhona Aitken
Title:
trip to the chiropodist
trip to the Chiropodist
That is misleading for a start. I didn’t go to him - he came to us at the Care Home, where we were all lined up with the happy thought of more comfortable feet. What a mixed bag we were - and what feet we presented to the poor man - a Mr Harkness. Aged feet can be very alarming. Knots and bumps out of this world in size, shape and - ahem - aroma. There were toenails even he found hard work. A chainsaw would have helped. There was one set of bunions of such enormous dimensions one gasped. The owner admitted that when young she had adored stilettos - but unfortunately had such big feet that she bought her shoes a size too small out of sheer vanity.
When my turn came I sat obediently in the designated chair, while he bent down and glowered at my needy feet. All would have been well if my eyes had not - alas - homed in on his hair. It is not often that I get a young man kneeling at my feet, and I felt I should have enjoyed the experience. However, the whole romantic occasion was utterly ruined when I inadvertently homed in on his wig. An awful wig. A quite deplorable red wig. Not at all a nice wig - if wigs are ever nice. Not on men anyway. Though of-course, some wigs are very nice because you don’t know they are wigs. This one screamed for attention.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. He was asking me pertinent questions about the undesirable state of my feet and all I could do was undesirably squeak ridiculous replies. Proper speech failed me. I was riveted to the beastly thing. It was hypnotic. It filled my world and I was quite unable to look away.
When he’d finished - to my horror I squeaked “Thank you Mr Hairless” and ran for my life.
Published on writebuzz®:
Adults
> A day in my life
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