Stay Out of That Nordstrom’s Shoe Den of Iniquity – Unless Your Pedicure’s Fresh.

These days everyone is looking for ways to save money, but certain expenses remain elemental to mental and physical health. Necessities. You can’t live without them.

Food, shelter and pedicures.

If you don’t think pedicures a necessity consider yourself blessed. And you certainly are not a member of the Feet Uglier Than Dirt Society (FUTDS). I am. A past president actually. Several terms.

Moving pictures show dainty Cinderella demurely placing her foot in a glass slipper. Everyone remembers her. No one fixates on the stepsisters cramming their size 10s in size 6 glass shoe. Anastasia and Drizella were founding members of the Feet Uglier than Dirt Society. Not that the FUTDS likes to claim them, as the sisters are 10 times meaner than their feet are ugly. Each month, I pray their meeting e-mail reminder will get lost in their spam folder. Hasn’t happen yet. But I still can dream.

Maybe this Cinderella tale is the crux of my foot-related beauty anxiety? A handsome male gazing down at comely size 6. My bared-foot issues surfaced long ago with a old boyfriend. First, he casually suggested I wear shoes — all the time. Certain pairs I was to avoid like garlic on a first date. Then came the day that he confessed he could never work as a shoe salesman for worry that some woman would come in with extra sensual feet and he would leave his wife.

Leaving your wife over a perfect pixie foot. Sure. That made sense.

In an extreme exercise of self-discipline, he turned down a sales position in the Nordstrom’s shoe den of iniquity and went to medical school. Now he is a successful doctor — who cheats on his wife. I guess all goes to show selling shoes is not integral to falling in lust with a foot attached to someone other than your wife.

Yes, the good Lord saved me from a philandering doctor husband and blessed me with my very own Prince Charming. Who says my toes look like the teeth of a downtrodden, life-beaten derelict. Lovely. Old drunk man’s teeth for toes.

But as the Lord taketh he also giveth. Someone – most definitely the Lord’s earthly agent — gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure. When I left the salon that day, for the first time in their little lives my feet were borderline attractive. The angels and all of heaven rejoiced, along with my husband.

You see if your toes are painted real pretty, it kind of dolls up the rest of your foot. Thanks to my toe-specialist, Cindy Ferguson, I brazenly flaunt my feet and toes all over the place. I even wear ballroom sandals with toes peeking through – showing only appropriate levels of cleavage, of course

So following the FUTDS’ motto of making the most of what you’ve got, with a little polish and push I’m helping Mother Nature along. Guess their motto works for all kinds of cleavage — but best leave that and other old boyfriend) for another column.