About the Shoes

Everyone notices the shoes. Some are moved to remark upon my otherwise lack of attire. Others question my fashion sense.

Standing on My Own Two Feet

First, to address the "nakedness": I maintain that, as a Perfect Woman, I have nothing to hide. My perfectly slim and elongated torso needs no slimming and elongating vertical stripes. I have no "wattle" to conceal beneath a scarf. And my perfect breasts require no padding or pushing upward.

As for any sexual notions arising from my nudity, it is not in my nature as a Perfect Woman to initiate anything. I am a blank slate. Imperfect women, on the other hand, possess their own desires. Their bodies, with all their "bendiness" and functionality, threaten action. I desire and threaten nothing, unless you imagine that I do.

And besides, how should I pick and choose what parts to conceal? Is a perfect elbow any less provocative than a perfect derriere?

A Perfect Elbow

As for the footwear, I acknowledge that it is something less than haute, but I am not vain. Nor do I need to be fashionable. Perfection is a fashion in itself, and it is timeless. And these shoes get the job done, for unlike many so-called "fashionable women", I can stand on my own two feet.

It should be noted, too, that The Wife likes my shoes. They remind her of her girlhood living in "challenged" circumstances, when she was afforded exactly one pair of functional, you'll-grow-into-them shoes per year. She didn't know any differently and so didn't care.

There is nothing so perfect as a girl who does not yet know how to covet and to acquire.

My Past

I won't trouble you with details. They certainly don't trouble me. Suffice it to say that I come to this blog after a rescue of sorts, having been abandoned in an alley on the Northwest Side of Chicago. It doesn't matter how I got there, for while I am incapable of fault, I also do not condemn others. Treat me however you need. I won't complain.

A Perfect Woman Found

Still, I won't pretend that I find myself in perfect circumstances. This house and its inhabitants, especially The Wife, are a mess. Entropy rules. Indeed, I am the only perfect thing to be found here.

This gives me some sense of joy. Not a prideful, imperfect joy, but a selfless, I-am-happy-to-make-YOU-happy joy. Simply put, I spiff the place up. And, for The Wife, I shine like a beacon of perfect womanhood. Whether she has lost her way or simply never knew it, I will guide her. I will show her how she, too, may be a Perfect Woman.