Foot Fetish Yoga
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News Flash: Foot Fetishists Love Yogis!

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The one body part yoga has not beautified is my feet. I remember a day when these dogs were so dainty! Now, I’ve gone up a half-size, have more calluses, and the more dexterous my toes become – the more they look like fingers. Having a broader, springier base is a great foundation for my body, but alas – my feet have lost their glass-slipper delicateness. AND they’re always dirty from working barefoot. After dating a guy that was not very understanding of my job hazards and snidely commented about my dirty feet – I happily accepted Mr. FF’s invitation to photograph them.

Mr. FF had made a name for himself in the photo world as “the foot fetish guy” shooting for magazines, books, and his own site dedicated to the ranking of feet – coining his own “foot scale” to boot. No one had ever scored a ten. Once the search for the perfect foot was satisfied, he explained, the hunt would be over and that would be tragic.

“How do I measure up?” I asked him, already an overconfident foot model. I’d give you a solid 7.” He answered. Sigh…. That’s how it always is in the big pond! What I was lacking? Loath to offend, Mr. FF began citing my pedi-gree: praising my high, narrow arch, visible metatarsals, and spacious yogi toes. On the other hand (or foot) – my heel is a little too slight for his tastes, lacking overall meatiness and stamina. “Different strokes for different folks,” he consoled. “Not all foot guys are alike, some prefer a narrow heel.” What kind of foot did he consider well-heeled? As he waxed on his ideal calcaneous, visions of an elephant foot slamming through a door came to mind. Strong heels, strong legs…..Hmmmmm I think, perhaps I do need to ground more. Still I was impressed that he could see back to my delicate roots.

The more we spoke, I realized, this was more than a fetish, or a pastime. Mr. FF’s hard-wired to worship feet the way you know your gay besty was sneaking off to have his diapers tailored! Had Mr. FF been born 50 years ago in a less urbane setting, he might have wound up selling women’s shoes. He simply needs to be around feet. My video must be one of hundred he’s filmed for entire sites dedicated to a down under we never imagined was so far south.

Having filmed about 50 yoga videos myself, I’ve learned to keep the wet wipes constantly afoot. I pulled one suggestively from its box and asked “Do you want to watch?” I asked him. “Leave them dirty.” he urged. “Really?” I asked. “Yeah, most guys start with clean, but once you get dirty, you can’t go back.” He adds, addressing the disbelief in my face. “Dirty soles are the best, particularly when they smell like sweaty corn chips.” “I guess we should have done this after a run in dirty socks. “I jibe, and see his breath catch a little bit. This is no joke for him.

I began teaching an instructional to reawaken flat arches – essentially calf-raises on a block with new awareness. “You’re soooooo dirty!” He said, and I chuckled, slowing down the movement. “Are you pitching a tent?” I asked him. “No, I’ve seen this 1,000 times. I’ll be OK as long as I don’t touch them.” “Is that the line?” I asked him, “Yes, that is the line.” Indeed, he was professional every step of the way.

Nevertheless, I still had to stop and ask myself am I dirty? Anyway you slice it: this is foot smut. But they’re my feet, I expose them constantly. So what constitutes porn? Is it the content of the message, the intention of the transmitter, or the receiver? Subject matter: retraining the arch. Transmitter: Yoga teacher. Receiver: Masturbating foot fetishists. Oh no, am I a foot slut? I thought, feeling that familiar wave of good girl shame begin to wash over me. And then I realized, this is completely irrelevant to me, judgment about the purity of my feet is just as moot as judgments we accept about the other parts of our lives and bodies. I’m still not sure if I can label the experience as smutty or not, but I decided it didn’t matter. When giving a gift that’s actually healing to give, I’d say it’s usually worth it.

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