The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

Beyond shiny baubles, the way to my heart is through my feet.

Sadly, my husband rejects massaging my weary, over used  feet so I need to be serviced elsewhere.

A foot massage is my drug of choice.

My custom orthotics only take me so far.

I need strong hands deeply massaging my toes, arches, and ankles.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

I found a prince to do me right.

Of note, my father had huge, strong hands and was generous with his massages for Queen E. who was a former ballet dancer.

Next time the foot massage will be included and highlighted in the pre-nup.

For now, I will just keep going out of network.