"Weirder"

I was asked once what body part I like the best about myself. As awkward as that question was, I knew the answer immediately: my feet. My toes are sized right, I have two toe rings that shine beautifully in the ocean and my feet are relatively thin. On those beautiful PMS-ey days where nothing fits right, I'm bloated and broken out, I look at my feet, and I feel slightly better at that small moment. However, my saving grace has been altered. Three months ago I fell out of a yoga pose and landed on my big toe, "flipping" off my toenail. My big toe is now bald and grotesque looking, and this has resulted in some interesting life lessons. One in particular has caused me to look at our human nature's subconscience skill of masking pain and injury, for the sake of looking "normal" (whatever the heck that may be at that present time).

Shortly after parting with my beloved toenail (strange I realize, but I really felt like there was a divide there), I went for a pedicure. Before I sat in the chair, I explained slowly and precisely to the smiling woman, that I did not want my big, bald, injured toe even TOUCHED. She smiled and said, "OhhhhKayyyyy," with a spunky little head nod that made me wonder if she computed what I said. Shortly after, I got my answer as she attempted to accetone the raw skin. So, I explained again, this time with hand gestures. While pointing to my nail-less toe, I said, "This toe....do not touch....please.....DO NOT TOUCH". This time she giggled and said something to her friend in Vietnamese, who also giggled. Now, when this happens on a regular basis, I know they are talking about me, however, my theory is, "Chat away; whatever gets the job done." This time, I wasn't so nonchalant. I was tense throughout the rest of the pedicure. I felt like a helicopter parent over her diabetic child at a birthday party. I had reason to be so, because she whipped out the paint with avengence (I saw it...really!)

As she dipped the paint brush into the ruby red paint, I tensed. She audaciously headed straight for my specified, off limits, bald toe! I swear I saw a determined grin come across her face. I don't know what she thought she was painting. Afterall, it is toeNAIL polish. No nail there lady! I slapped her hand away. I was as startled as she was at my response. I didn't mean to, it was impulse! She said something in Vietnamese to her giggle buddy who came over promptly and said, "We paint. No paint, you look weirder". Through nervous laughs I said, "No, leave it alone. I don't have a toenail and you have nothing there to paint. It is healing!" Apparently this was "weirder" to her because she looked at me cock-headed and said, "We paint skin. We do all time."

After a three minute broken English argument, she surrendered and proceeded to paint 9 toes (with an attitude I will add). I sat in the chair and thought about her last comment, "We do all time". How many people are injured and wounded, and walk around with temporary band-aids to attempt to not look weird? Heaven forbid we are actually ourselves, and let our wounds heal in the sunlight for all to see. Instead we mask the pain and injury, to look "normal" with chemicals and quick fixes, which really prolong our healing time. In addition, we cause more pain on top of the initial pain. (Could you imagine taking nail polish off of an exposed nail bed? Crap!)

Then I thought about if we were all to be true, not pretending to be "alright", what would "normal" really look like? Would there really be a "weird"? What a great world that would be, and how much faster would we all be whole? I realize that there are deeper issues that come with being human than losing a toenail and debating whether or not to paint raw skin, but I state that healing is healing, no matter what is entailed. I claim that being true and staying "raw" will further our cause of finding who we really are as people and helping others as a response.

As I look at my nine painted toes, I realize that this is the genuine of person I long to be. Let me start by publicly stating that I currently hate my feet. They are not pretty, and do not currently offer me any moments of happiness when I am PMSing. But I will not mask it, because I believe the pain will subside, the deformed looking nail bed will go away and the nail will return. It will heal in it's time and for the time being, let the sunshine do it's thing and whoever sees it, so be it. I may be even be able to tell them this story, wouldn't that be stellar?