Here’s some people I can probably relate to.
We are people who love to go barefoot — not just at home or the beach, but in a wide variety of places and situations.
We prefer going barefoot because of its health and comfort benefits, while delighting in the textures the world has to offer.
We support the personal freedom of everyone to go barefoot, and seek to correct myths and misconceptions about going barefoot.
We provide a friendly forum for SBL members to share thoughts and experiences about barefoot living.
One reason I wanted to live in Florida was the possibility of going barefoot year ‘round, something that’s tough to do up north when the temperature drops below freezing and stays there for months. That’s worked out pretty well: down here I go days without wearing shoes, to the point where I keep them in the car. No need for them around the house.
When we visit friends, I walk in the house barefoot. Nobody even blinks an eye any more. When we’re out for dinner or a drink someplace, I usually slip off my shoes. I always drive barefoot (very appropriate for a manual transmission). At my last several jobs, I went barefoot once I got inside my office. Nobody cared. I mow the lawn barefoot. I only put shoes on when obliged to do so, and that’s become rarer and rarer, and when I get where I have to be, they come off.
It has nothing to do with the fact that I wear 10 toe rings on my left foot and 12 on the right. Shoes fit over them without a problem. It’s just more comfortable for my feet without shoes, just as it’s more comfortable for my crotch without underwear.
Yes, barefoot — but why stop there?
In fact, I’m often naked around the house, and it wouldn’t trouble me in the least to parade bare-ass outdoors — say, walking the dog through the neighborhood. After all, except for the collar, she does it. There is a genuine sense of vulnerability, though, with one’s package exposed and bouncing about unprotected. We have a kitten now, too, who’s at the age when anything dangling, trailing, protruding, or just waving in the wind is his invitation to pounce. Yeah. Ouch. So I wear the minimum, indoors and out.
Not everybody gets this. There’s still a prejudice about clothing that goes past health and reason. In the top photo, the sign commands people to wear a tee shirt inside the establishment. No three-piece suits or tuxedo jackets allowed. What’s so special about a tee shirt? Would this convenience store refuse me service if I wore a sweater or a hoodie?
The one below is a sign on the door of my dentist’s office. Obediently, I stopped, slipped off my shoes and wiped my feet as directed, then put my shoes back on. What is the point of this exercise, especially when people are arriving to get their teeth worked on?
When I ask my dentist this very question he gives me a long thoughtful look, checks his records, then stares at me for a full two minutes. “I never should have administered that nitrous oxide in 2002,” he says sadly. “Your wife was right — we should have taken you to the vet and had you put the fuck to sleep.”
Whatever. I don’t remember 2002. So just bury me barefoot.