Dear Left and Right,
For the past 23 years you have patiently carried me around, since we started with upright as a baby (I skipped crawling altogether, obnoxious and precocious before I could spell them!), and I have never been particularly grateful. It's your job, so you do it.
I have applied lotion to keep the skin soft, painted my toenails a cheery colour, because toenails are grim. I don't particularly like feet, but I don't hate you guys, even if it seems like that sometimes.
I'm sorry about the shoes that rub, slicing into the soft flesh, causing horrific blisters, and massive amounts of pain, I'm sorry about the flipflops, I know they're not built for walking and they leave you all dirty and with calluses where the strap has rubbed. I'm sorry I like walking miles in whichever impractical shoe I've shoved you in. Hey, at least I'm not constantly in high heels, they're even more painful, remember.
I'm sorry I march up hills and through parks, without stopping for a rest, forgetting that the reason I can't feel my toes is probably a lack of blood supply.
So thank you, battered, bruised and blistered though you are, for carrying me hither and thither, up hill and down dale (even though it's more like down one street and up another). Let's not fall out, you're going to be doing this job forever.
P.S I promise to buy more blister plasters, heel guards and better shoes, really soon, ok.