Say it Isn't True

My feet stink. I have stinky feet. My cute as a button toes? Stinky. All the wonder that is the most beautiful part of my body? Stinky. Stinky. Stinky. Mommie will give me a nice bath, and I'll smell all fresh and lovely, and you can guarantee that within a couple hours, someone will put my foot near their face and start slowly backing away, making a face usually reserved for poopie diapers. I am horrified. Not so much in the fact that my feet are stinky, but in the fact that Britney Spears' feet are stinky too....and if we share that one quality, what other qualities do we share? I already LOVE music, and I hear that she does too (though I don't know if what she does qualifies as proper music). Will I end up marrying trailer trash Dance Fever rejects with no sense of fashion style? Will I chew my fingernails down to nubs? Will I dance with large snakes? Will I be as dumb as a bag of hammers? Heaven help me. I have stinky feet, and this is just too much for someone of my tender age to bear...someone pass me a pair of socks and some baby powder...quickly, before the magnetism of my feet inexplicably draws my toes into my mouth....aw, crap....too late.....yucky....