California Freaks

After moving to California in 1997, I began working at a nearby hospital. On one memorable occasion, a patient proved resistant to doing his exercises. While this was a new patient for me, it was not uncommon to have patients that needed to be persuaded to do the required therapy. Normally, we (therapists) do a little give and take and try our best to convince the patient of why they should do XY and Z. We listen and motivate.

Well, this guy wanted me to do his personal exercise routine first before he would do mine. I was game. First I had to take off my shoes. Then my socks. Then he put my feet and toes through a series of "exercises".

Now I try to divert him back to the exercises I wanted him to do. But, no. He has more foot exercises he want me to do first. Okaaaaaay.

My brain is beginning to sense something is wrong. Disturbingly wrong. Huge willies wrong! I am now thinking about everything I have just done for this man regarding my feet. Is he staring? WTH?!

Dear God I think I have a foot fetish dude here.

Now you may not think it is so weird, foot fetishes, but I felt seriously violated. I know. It's just feet. Not a boob or anything. But just the thought of someone deriving some sort of physical, sexual pleasure from you... secretly, covertly... like a peeping tom or those guys who carry video cameras and look up your skirt. It's... oogie! (For all those not from Hawaii... oogie is like when something is just gross to all hell and you get the uncontrolled shivers - pronounced ooo Gee - gee like the letter "g".) It was like that. Very very oogie!

Did I ever have that patient again? Hell no! And I made sure to warn the schedulers to place him with a male therapist next time.

Has it scarred me for life? Hell yes!

I do not wiggle my toes for strangers.

Other body parts? Well...