i'm a barely-barefoot

i'm not a never-nude; rather, i suffer from a slight variation of this debilitating disorder. from october until april, i'm a barely-barefoot. underneath any pair of socks, i wear another pair... of novelty socks. you know: those adorable hosiery that beckon to your 12-year-old soul from the end-caps near the shoe department at target.

i've purchased several dollar pairs on late night summer camp impulse sprees over the years and have also received several pairs from the judester. she's made them place-settings at my father's pierre cardin smoked-mirror dining table [oooh, i want that table!] and even put them in holiday cards and sent them by mail.

i've got quite a collection:

• a few pair with crazy stripes
  
• some are brightly flowered
  
• ones that describe sagittarians
  
• ones with a sassy blonde in a pink dress that say "attitude"
  
• orange ones with a fierce black cat that say "meow!" in huge letters
  
• footie-style [not fouetté] purple ones with frog-headed polka dots
  
• i've got ones adorned with a red and green bear that say "beary kissmass" [my first pair], given to me by my freshman-year dance team secret santa, jewish tamar.

did i mention they appeal to my inner twelve-year-old?

i put a fresh pair on my freshly-washed feet each day and scrunch on a new pair over them. then, at night, i take the over-pair off and hop into bed. so far, so good -- we'll see how we fare as we get into the truly frigid months.