Beautiful Feet

If you have kept up with me, this is my one word 365 blog. I didn't really want to take on the responsibility of another blog, and this January I became a part of The Brave Girl Community.

So, I will actually just post excerpts here from time to time of the brave girl posts I'm writing and then list a link for you to jump over and read the rest. :)

Trust is definitely being developed within me and the Holy Spirit is becoming a more and more familiar strength and friend.

Here's the post in its entirety: http://bravegirlcommunity.com/2014/08/21/beautiful-are-the-feet/ ‎

And, if you want to read a piece before committing to another link, here you go:

I have two very good feet. I was born with all ten toes. I have been able to walk without problems for the duration of my 30 plus years here on Earth.
So why don't I like my feet?
My toes are a mix of my Dad's toes and my Mom's toes. I could point out to you that my first large toe and last two toes are all the same as his, but that my second and third are exact copies of my mother's toes.
I don't really dislike my toes, but they do make it difficult to purchase shoes that are not "open-toed" as their lengths are not uniform or standard for today's fashion.
And this, perhaps is where the dislike begins. Today's fashion. Marketing professionals are great at what they do. They find feet that they deem "flawless", "perfect", "the standard of beauty", and then they photograph them. If the photograph isn't just right, they will alter it to "put their best foot forward."
(sorry, I couldn't resist)
Along with the perfect toenails, which are not flat to the foot but have a slight roundness to the base, the toes are all lined up just like rows in a neatly planted garden. Not one is crooked, not one is too long compared to its sister. These toes often have a nice manicure and perhaps a coat of lovely lacquer as well.

In junior high I began to have communal shower/locker room exposure. My feet also were exposed to that environment and I began to have imperfections on my skin. My perfect feet now had times of peeling which were treated and cured until it came back.
By high school I began to dislike my feet even more. Instead of pretty, smooth skin that resembled my palms, I had rough white layers on the balls of my feet and on the outsides. I was very active, and that is a natural result of all the time spent on my feet, hiking, playing sand volleyball, indoor volleyball, working fast food, etc.
As an adult I visited a podiatrist, who wasn't concerned when he saw my feet, just told me to sand them. "You can even use a dremel on them."
Within the last few years, I've jammed both my big toes and damaged the nail beds and I've kind of given up hope that I'll ever even have toenails that cover my entire toe again.
When I met my now-husband, and we were dating, he one time wanted to give me a foot rub with some lotion. I resisted. I could not understand why he would want to touch my feet. I would often say, "God put my feet as far away from my eyes as possible as He knew it was the body part I liked the least."
That's pretty cruel to say. And, I believe it's disrespectful to myself AND to the one who made me!