Conformi-Tea (con·form·i·ty)

Picture it, you see a woman, she's dressed to the gawds. Hair done, nails done,  everything did (in my Drake's voice)! I mean, this chick is snatched from head to toe. You give her the once over, and since she looks so nice, you owe it to her to look twice. But that's where you stopped, at her toes. Although her shoes are designer, I'm talking; they are kuttee (cute); something distracts you and catches your attention at the same time. And there it was, winking at you, the pinky toe that won't quit. I mean, it's working like it was hammer time. Well, that's me. I'm the pinky toe. No matter how much I wanted to blend into the in-crowd, I always stuck out. Forget the sore thumb; I stuck out like a little phalange of a wide-width foot trying to fit in a narrow shoe.