I have a foot fetish. I know that's something usually reserved for men, but I have one.

However, not just any ordinary foot can send me into a frenzied state. My "dream" feet, the feet that have the power to "move" me and the guy attached to them, have to be in a pair of Birkenstocks.

I love Birkenstocks, but not just because it seems a fair number of cute guys wear them. There are other reasons. To me, they symbolize individuality and freedom from society's narrow definition of what is normal (even for shoes).

First introduced to the U.S. in 1967, Birkenstocks became the official shoe for the Age of Aquarius. Today, people from all walks of life enjoy the unbelievable comfort of these cork-soled sandals, despite wisecracks from conservative shoe wearers who can't accept an alternative to confining footwear. In fact, sales are expected to reach 1.4 million pairs this year.

I feel a bond with others who wear Birkenstocks. At the risk of making a generalization, I would have to say we are a friendly people. I have received smiles from others, somehow acknowledging the fact that we are smart people. We care about comfort. We care about our feet.

We are happy people and there's one simple reason why. When your feet are happy, you are happy. Haven't you heard about good things starting from the bottom up?

Everyone stresses the need for a good foundation and the foundation for the human body are the feet. The worst things to deal with in a mobile society like ours are blisters.

I am aware of the opposition to these sandals -- anyone from strangers to members of my own family have criticized my footwear.

This summer I went to the Philadelphia Art Museum with a friend and a female employee asked me where I got my shoes. Being the friendly person I am, eager to share my knowledge about Birkenstocks, I told her that I got them in a health food store.

She said that she had seen a lot of people wearing them lately, all of whom agreed on the shoe's comfort. As I, too, was agreeing, about to go into my long-winded speech on how these shoes have changed my outlook and perception of life and the world, she interrupted me by saying, "But you gotta admit those things are ugly."

Last May, when I was in downtown Pittsburgh observing some architecture for an art class, I was confronted by two men. Of course, I ignored them in the hope that they weren't actually talking to me. As I walked away in my forest green Arizona style sandal, I heard in the distance, "Hey you, the girl with them funny shoes, we're talking to you." Then, somehow I knew it was me that they wanted to bother.

These experiences make me wonder. Why do we think that what makes our feet comfortable is ugly or funny-looking (especially when worn by a woman)? As a woman who wears Birkenstocks, I feel liberated from the monstrous instrument of torture, cleverly disguised as fashion, the high-heeled shoe.

I admire, even respect, any woman who goes against this prescribed form of foot imprisonment by wearing a pair of sandals or clogs. I have seen my fair share of women walking barefoot, carrying the culprit, a pair of shoes pointed at the toes with a width of no more than three inches.

The last time I checked, the human foot did not come to a point at the toes. In reality, if you would trace your foot on a piece of paper you would see that by nature's design the foot is narrower at the heel not at the toes, just the opposite of the way women's (not men's) shoes are designed. This leads me to wonder why anyone designed shoes for women in the way they have.

I believe that one reason may be the foot fetish of men that dates back to the 11th century Chinese tradition of foot-binding. You might think that I am way off, but there are more similarities between foot-binding an high-heeled shoes than you might imagine.

Both have worked to keep women in their place. A Chinese woman with a foot measuring no more than three inches in length is hardly mobile. A woman wearing three inch spikes can't run very easily either. A woman in heels, without her feet solidly on the ground, is left "tip-toeing" around men. Although small feet and pointed shoes may be sexually stimulating for some men, they only cause pain and discomfort for women.

So, despite the fact that some men in the past, and even today, have foot fetishes that require a woman to somehow shrink the size of her feet, my personal fetish requires only that a man allow his feet to be free.

I don't know if I'll ever understand my fascination for a man's feet in a Birkenstock footbed. Maybe it is more than just the shoe, but what it gives to the person wearing it -- comfort, support and freedom. What else could you want for your feet? What else could you want in a relationship?