Feet Fit For Radio.

I don’t like to check my email right when I wake up, so I usually just check my email right when I wake up.

I found a message calling me in for a commercial audition! Yay! “MUST HAVE NICE FEET / NO FOOT MODELS / WEAR SOMETHING THAT SHOWS ARMS AND LEGS / BAREFOOT IN AUDITION”.


I blinked my eyes to confirm — ugh, fuck. FEET.

Clammy with a fresh terror sweat, I clocked my Sasquatch snaggle toes.

pyzbkzjncczgwIf you asked me what my least favorite part of my body is, I wouldn’t even say my feet because they’re like — utility.

They’re like those things you use to hold corn cobs.

And yeah. They’re good for long walks on the beach, running away from bears, jumping like a maniac in case of a bumble bee, and also standing over the sink eating chip crumbs.

Not MODELING. Or in general, being SEEN. By humans.

My toenails were like the ceilings of long-forgotten European chapels, the polish faded and cracked and clinging on to life. My heels? Death Valley. And on the back of my ankle, a few unidentified bumpy things.

BEAUTIFUL! Let’s get these puppies on camera!

A normal human lady would have skipped the gym and gotten a professional pedicure for the audition. I, being not that, went to the gym, rationalizing my feet were all in my head, and could be cured by a good sweat.

Immediately after, I rushed home for a DIY Extreme Makeover, and headed down to the audition in Hollywood. An 8-minute drive from my apartment, that could take up to 5 business days in traffic.

I walked in, and sat next to women who were maybe not *technically* foot models, but who were DEFINITELY model-models, and therefore perfect in every way. Oh, and with model feet. What luck.

The casting assistant called my name “Lauren Blair”? Rrrrg. “So, you’re actually scheduled for tomorrow….”

I had been so freaked out about the FEET part, I didn’t properly read the notice. She let me stay. More girls filed in.

“I love your calves”, this girl says to me. I automatically look toward someone who must be standing behind me.

“Me?? Oh. Thank you…” WHAT!?

“Everyone always comments on my little ankles — Like, how can I even walk on them…” She said, as she touched her perfect little tan ankles, in her gorgeous sandals, gently brushed by the silk of her summery romper.

I wanted her little ankles. I would have traded both my corn-cob-holder feet and Corgi legs, for her ankle problems. Gimme a saw.

“Lauren?” The assistant called my name to go in. My mustache quivered in fear.


“Hi, and you are?” The casting director hit record on the camera, as I slid out of my shoes.


“Ok, Lauren — we’ll just have you rub your feet…. heels, ankles, all over…. act like your skin is dry and painful. Action.”

Serendipitously, this angle isn’t showcasing my ankle worts. I glide my hands all over my knees, calves, toes, balls of my feet (barf!), heels (GAH), around and around, I’m sure my feet are black on the bottom from this dirty room (VOM!), as my face contorts into a natural YUCK shape…

“Ok! Great. Now do one where you’ve used the lotion, and you’re feeling better. Same action.”

I channel “Barbie pleasant face”, as I rub my feet like I’m on some foot-fetish live porn cam. Do I look like I like this? SMILE! Omg, smile, you gross, gross foot toucher!

“OK, thanks!” The director cuts camera.

It was OVER. HA! It was OVER!!!!!!!!!!!! And no one said “OMG, why did you come in here with those flippers?!” I practically skipped out of the room, completely relieved of my ped-anxiety, wishing all the other wonderful WONDERFUL women in the waiting area GOOD LUCK!

“You’re beautiful! Look at those gorgeous tootsies! THIS LITTLE PIGGY WENT TO THE BANK AFTER HE BOOKED THIS THING! Have fun!” 

I totally did my agent a solid by showing up to this horrifying audition, and surely that good karma would come back to me tenfold! Big, meaty auditions for TV and film!

The next day I got a call from my agent.


“You got a callback.” She said.

“For what.”

“The foot thing!”


“I just knew you had nice feet. I thought, Lauren has nice feet!” Literally, no one has ever had this thought in their life. And she’s never seen my feet.


I thanked her, and hung up the call, marking my calendar for Round Two in the following days.

But, I felt different about it.

This time, I’d get a real pedi from my go-to Sun Nails. And I would enjoy it. Because life could be more tragic than having to get pampered for an audition.

I also took a little time to appreciate a few of my love-neglected body parts. SO WHAT — I don’t look like a model, or any of the fashion bloggers, or celebrities, or people I see normally…

I look like me. Corgi Sasquatch. The one, and only.

And I’d like to think her feet are most beautiful on the inside.FullSizeRender-3*1,000+ filters have been applied to this photo. 



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