Bogota Blackberry

It’s that time of year again. My feet, so long encased in boots and my trusty mary-janes will be open to public view as I make the annual transition to flip flops and sandals.

Each year, I promise myself I’ll get a pedicure, slough off the old skin, push back those cuticles, and let my feet shine. And every year, I leave it too long, until I give up, slap some polish on my toes, and go forth.

You see, I don’t actually like people touching my feet. Mostly because I hate touching other peoples’ feet and can’t think that someone would willingly touch mine. Especially, say, by the time June rolls around, and my feet stink. I mean, everybody’s do, but I just think it’s cruel to inflict foot stench on someone, even someone being paid to give a pedicure. That, and I am wildly ticklish.

But not this year. I made the appointment, I went to the spa. A lovely woman named Julia took my feet in hand and passed me a colour chart. What colour should I go for?

I had in mind something simple, a pale shell-pink, maybe something pearly. But I looked at that chart and I saw the colour I wanted. It’s called Bogota Blackberry, and it is SASSY! “Hello, World”, my feet cried as I sashayed out of the salon. “We are sexy and cute, and so is Liz!”

It was like the time I dyed my hair red and felt like I could stop traffic just by walking down the street. Amazing! So small a change with so huge a result. I can’t justify a manicure when there’s still so much to do in the garden, but I am going to buff my nails later tonight.

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