These feet were made for walking

Last Sunday was Ward Conference. So, naturally, I had an epiphany. As I was sitting in the 3rd hour meeting, contemplating the deep significance of the stake's message, I caught a glimpse of my dry, non-pedicured February toes sticking boldly out of the top of my sandals and thought, "Good heavens, have you no shame?!"

But then, as I sat there, trying to hide such reprehensible feet under my long skirt and hoping no one else would notice, I thought, "When did feet stop being... you know,  feet?"

.

There are some ways in which we as a society have made great advancements. I consider much of my life to be significantly easier than that of most women who have ever lived. I have an electric washer, dryer, dishwasher, toaster, can opener, refrigerator, running water (hot and cold), lights, heat, etc. Not to mention a car, voting privileges and a bank account! Really, it's pretty cush. We have obviously made great strides in how we live and function. But it seems that as a society, when our significant survival needs are met, we then shift our focus to the trivial, mundane, and absolutely ridiculous.

Take teeth whitening for example. When I was in high school, I'd never heard of whitening teeth. Now, it's not only standard, but expected. I was chatting with a friend the other day who said she is frustrated with her mother because she just won't go in and get her teeth whitened. Silly woman! Doesn't she know that these days we have moved right past judging people by the color of their skin and now we judge them by the color of their teeth!? I told Tyler a few weeks ago that I wanted to go to the dentist and get my teeth whitened. (Because you know, the whitening strips, toothpaste, mouthwash and gum just aren't effective enough...) He said, "What makes you think you need your teeth whitened?" And because my real answer of: "Well, because everyone else does," seemed so stupid, I responded with the much more insightful: "I dunno."

I feel the same way about pedicures. Some women love them; getting a pedicure is the highlight of their week. (Which is great, I have no problem with that.) But for me a pedicure just seems like an extra $45 I'd rather not pay someone to play with my feet while I worry about what my five children are doing either to the house, the sitter, or each other. When did we elevate feet to such a high social standard that they now need to be exfoliated, buffed, and painted, weekly? Can you imagine if a some large, hairy caveman had lumbered in to where his wife was gutting a freshly-killed wildebeest and said: "You, woman! Paint feet!" She probably would have picked up her cavewoman club and beat him with it.

It's scary to think that in my pampered, efficient, automated life, I am now subjected to ridiculous beauty standards that no hardworking cavewoman would tolerate. I have to question the point of all the plucking, shaving, cutting, highlighting, coloring, painting, whitening, and make-up-ing. It's exhausting.

So, in response to this tangential aside I had during the 3rd hour meeting, I decided to boldly thrust my toes forward for all to see! Maybe then, someone else would feel that they didn't need to paint either! But that only lasted a minute before I tucked them snugly back underneath my chair.

Oh, and just so you know, today I firmly resisted the urge to give in and paint my toes. Ban the brush, I say!

Instead, I just wore boots.