Miss New Shoes

Because I have nothing exciting going on in my life currently, I thought I might start posting random memories from my childhood.
So I wasn't always the coolest kid. I remember in about fourth grade there was this girl that always came to school looking perfect. Her mom probably spent an hour doing her hair every morning. I was intrigued by her perfection. One time I asked her if she had a different pair of shoes for every outfit. She solemnly responded in the affirmative with a slow but confident nod. One day we came in from recess and sat down for story time on the carpet. Apparently I wasn't all that fascinated by the story because I became fixated on my feet. My white sandals had a thin brown layer of dirt on them, but my white feet had a much thicker layer. Nothing has changed to this day. The bottom of my feet are still black all the time (probably because I cannot force myself to wear anything but flip flops even two weeks from Christmas). This day though, they were both black and wet--from sweat. Hmmm. Interesting. I busied myself with scratching along the bottom of my feet and filling up my fingernails with the black liquid, examining it for a bit, wiping it on the carpet next to me, and then going in for more. It would never have crossed my mind that this behavior was anything but normal until I looked up and saw the huge very visibly disgusted eyes of miss new shoes. I stopped scratching. Sheepishly.