Yes, this is a disembodied life-sized doll's leg, named Esmerelda. The right leg, to be specific; the left leg belongs to my Aunt Gail, whose favorite movie is My Left Foot. The near obsession with creepy dolls in my family goes back to college, when my mother found in her father's attic an appalling, life-sized doll that came to live with me in my dorm. That freaking doll was far more effective than any burglar alarm could ever be - I'm fairly certain it was possessed. Shiloh (for that was her name) unfortunately did not survive the move away from St. Louis, but luckily a few years later we discovered these legs on the side of the street in our neighborhood.
Esmerelda is great fun. She goes with me on major trips, fitting neatly into a carry-on bag, which always makes the TSA scanners do a double-take. She went to Atlanta in January, Puerto Rico in March, the beach two weeks ago, and out on the town with Rita and me on Thanksgiving eve. Let me tell you, there's nothing more fun than explaining to your waitstaff why you have a plastic doll's leg sitting at the spare seat at your table.
Weird? Absolutely. Awesome? Very much so! We dance with Esmerelda, too, but since I have no photos in which anyone has a normal face, I'll spare you those details. Esmerelda has many other uses: a hobo carrying stick (the toes keep the bag of your earthly possessions from falling to the ground), a defensive weapon should someone break into your house, a katana, artwork, a hat rack... you name it, and Esmerelda can probably do it, so long as it doesn't involve moving joints!
So when you visit me in Istanbul, you'll probably see Esmerelda hanging out in the living room. Just wave hello and know that you'll probably be dancing with her at some point during your stay.