LXVII. Ivan Stands on His Own Two Feet
Feet have never been of any interest to me. They are the things I walk on. I suppose if I lost one it would be of some concern, but for now, I ignore them and allow my toenails to grow out.
However, I have had the fortunate displeasure of having rather large feet, some of the biggest I have ever seen. Or licked. In fact, my feet are usually brought up in normal day-to-day conversations.
Mr. Drago, my homophobic father, traditionally begs the preacher at church to explain why he caught me stuffing my overgrown feet into my mother's high heels as a pre-adolescent teenager. I was 18 and wearing her bra.
Girls always gawk at the size of my feet. And socks. But, they can never fit my toes into their mouths while fantasizing about them when I shower.
As rumor has it, men with large feet and hands are well hung. I have yet to see any evidence of this. Many of the girls that I have been with probably have the same conclusion. I can usually tell by their disappointing facial expressions when I close my overcoat and walk away in shame.
Clown Feet is a name that I am called a lot. Not because of my feet, but because I enjoy spending time with children.
With big feet come big blisters. Anytime I exert physical strength, it seems my feet become two war torn countries full of blisters. Oddly as it sounds, because my feet are so crowded with blisters, the damn blisters decided to take a stronghold on my genitals.
I was always the most feared grave digger in middle school. My big toe had its own nickname. "The Deep Punishment" is what they used to call it. I would torture my friends until they cried, gagged, or bled.
I may rid myself of them some day, but for now, it will be a size 15 for me please.
However, I have had the fortunate displeasure of having rather large feet, some of the biggest I have ever seen. Or licked. In fact, my feet are usually brought up in normal day-to-day conversations.
Mr. Drago, my homophobic father, traditionally begs the preacher at church to explain why he caught me stuffing my overgrown feet into my mother's high heels as a pre-adolescent teenager. I was 18 and wearing her bra.
Girls always gawk at the size of my feet. And socks. But, they can never fit my toes into their mouths while fantasizing about them when I shower.
As rumor has it, men with large feet and hands are well hung. I have yet to see any evidence of this. Many of the girls that I have been with probably have the same conclusion. I can usually tell by their disappointing facial expressions when I close my overcoat and walk away in shame.
Clown Feet is a name that I am called a lot. Not because of my feet, but because I enjoy spending time with children.
With big feet come big blisters. Anytime I exert physical strength, it seems my feet become two war torn countries full of blisters. Oddly as it sounds, because my feet are so crowded with blisters, the damn blisters decided to take a stronghold on my genitals.
I was always the most feared grave digger in middle school. My big toe had its own nickname. "The Deep Punishment" is what they used to call it. I would torture my friends until they cried, gagged, or bled.
I may rid myself of them some day, but for now, it will be a size 15 for me please.
posted by Ivan Drago at 3:12 PM
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