Sunny Days and Skippy Skies

I wore a skirt today. It was a slippery, stretchy black material with some oriental looking stick and flowers embroidered on it. It hit just below the knee and was from a second-hand store. I wore it with a stretchy white t-shirt from Target and some sparkly flip-flops also from Target.

I felt girly, cute even. I enjoyed having my legs be free from pants. I let my toes be free. They were without polish, something I haven't ventured to do for many years feeling that toenails were meant to be blue/green/pink/purple/orange/black/red/indigo/silver rather than their natural color. It's strange to start thinking that it's normal for toenails to be aqaumarine, not merely normal, but required-that some how those without lavender nails were missing out. On what, I'm not sure.

Today, my boyfriend changed my windshield wipers while I sat in the front seat of my car-with the seat reclined, my feet up, and a book in hand. The sense of girliness reached frightning heights unlike my flip-flops. I will never understand high heels, pointy shoes, and tucking your pants inside of boots. It was cute to watch my man struggle with the wipers, to see him work up a sweat trying to get it to stay on. Of course, he can work up a sweat just sitting there. I've never seen any have so much persperation seep out of his head. It's amazing. I'd love to be able to secure the sweat in a specimen container for it to be quantified. It must be pints of water. He soaked an entire comforter once and all the way through a pillow. He was ill, but that should not matter. I've never seen anyone sweat like that.

I like shoes that are shaped like feet. As I think shoes serve a purpose, to protect our feet from the elements. Pointy shoes make no sense. I already have large feet and in order to get pointy shoes that fit correctly, your foot is supposed to end in the shoe before the point even begins. The whole idea of pointy shoes is that it can make your legs looks longer, but really it only makes my feet look longer.

I've never seen Andrew's feet. This bothers me. He's seen everything I have, even things I've never seen (I just don't bend that way). I've seen all of his body except his feet. He's always had socks on and it bothers me. I've mentioned the lack of feet in our relationship, but he only says that he has ugly feet and I wouldn't want to see them. It's not really about seeing his feet, it's about seeing all he has... about sharing himself with me, even if just once. I understood his apprehension when he didn't want me to see him any more than half naked, to see him with more than his shirt off. I've since seen what lies under his black jeans and I'm pleased and accepting. I love the feeling of rubbing my legs against his, with his skin so smooth and hair free. Black men tend not to be very hairy, I've discovered. I teased Andrew one day by counting his chest hairs-29 on each side. ;) But... the feet, I want the feet. Perhaps, it's a case of wanting what I can't have.

Then again, isn't it something I should have? A view of my boyfriend's feet and more skirts so I can bring out the girliness that I desperately try to hide some days. However, I still don't wear make-up. It just looks weird. I tried to wear a scarf in my hair/on my head one day and it was beyond silly looking.

This is the end of this one... I am tired and hungry, a combination that leads to such drivel as this.