Trod Envy

I stood on the edge of my backyard. It was summer, and my neighbors were jumping through their sprinkler in the most stylish short-red-swim trunks 1984 had to offer...

I'd spent every other July afternoon ignoring the water balloon fights, the Atari games, and the GI Joe battle-invitations from the boys on my cul-de-sac...

But today was different...

I looked down at my OshKosh B'Gosh bottoms...and realized there was a reason I didn't own any short-red-swim trunks...

I'd never been so excited about something and so utterly disgusted at the same moment...

I left that emotional cocktail within the chain link fence of my 1/2 acre New Jersey backyard, wholly believing I would never again experience the complexity that combined fear and intrigue solicits...

........................................................

Although...


Today, through my 2 inch heels, I could almost feel the perfectly manicured lawn from my childhood between my toes.

Friends,

Have you heard of the Fish-pedicure?
















Yes...

It's real...

"Doctor Fish," eat away any evidence of stiletto-inflicted callouses...Leaving you with a surface so smooth that 8 year olds will see you and experience Trod-Envy.*

I am excited and grossed out...

I want to immerse myself in fish...

And until then...

I will count the days until I can proudly proclaim, "I laughed, I cried, I brought the skin-sampler-platter for fish pot-luck."

*Yes...
I manipulated the English language again to suit my whims...
"Trod Envy," When one experiences jealously evoked by another's feet, stride, or any condition pertaining to the metatarsal region.