I painted my toes this morning. I always keep them painted. It’s one of the things that most athletic women try to do because their feet are so screwed up from cleats. Like, my feet: I’m missing a toe nail on my pointer toe, left foot. You can’t tell since I paint the skin and make it look like there is a toe nail. It’s growing back. Or like my big toe on my right foot – it’s got a huge bruise underneath it. It’s really gross looking, too.
And so every few days, I look down and notice that the polish is coming off, and so I re-paint them. I keep them pretty. I keep all the ugliness out.
And then it occurred to me – people do this all the time. We paint the ugliness out of our life, or so we think. The ugliness is still under my toe nails, it’s still visible every few weeks when the polish is faded. It’s the same thing with my life. The human life. Unless your Gandhi. That guy was pretty much the most beautiful man in the world. But, we do this regularly. We cover up. We hide. We take whats on the surface for face value.
So, at what point do we stop trying to cover up the ugliness and live with what we are? When do we stop lying about the truth? When do I expose the ugliness of my toes?
The answer: Never. My toes will always be painted.
This is probably the most illogical post I’ve ever done.