Putting Lipstick on a Piggy (or 10)
I don't have a bathtub.
My residual flab, the limited range of motion of my left arm, and the as-of-yet-undissolved dissolving sutures in my abdomen make it difficult for me to contort myself.
And my toe-polishing skills are second only to my eye-makeup-application skills.
But the age-inappropriate polish from my last do-it-yourself pedicure was really bugging me (not to mention growing out), and it's a quiet night here on the homefront, with Zach out of town for a pre-birthday pub crawl with his college pals.
So I hoisted myself up onto the kitchen counter and soaked my feet in the kitchen sink.
And I somehow managed to remove the old Fairy Dust polish (no, I did not make that up, and yes, I did follow through on my vow and bequeathed the rest of the bottle to my two adorable nieces when they were in town last week).
Sadly, that's when I discovered that I have one more late-breaking side effect of chemo, to go along with my belatedly sparse brows and lashes: the dreaded discolored toenails.
Not all of my toenails, actually—just a couple.
And it could be worse—my toenails could fall out. (And it could still get worse, I'm sure.)
In the meantime, I have covered them with a deep claret-colored polish.
A Scarlett O'Hara maneuver?
Well, yes.
But I'm not seeing MOSWO for another 10 days. Until then, at least I will be able to look myself in the feet without cringing.
My residual flab, the limited range of motion of my left arm, and the as-of-yet-undissolved dissolving sutures in my abdomen make it difficult for me to contort myself.
And my toe-polishing skills are second only to my eye-makeup-application skills.
But the age-inappropriate polish from my last do-it-yourself pedicure was really bugging me (not to mention growing out), and it's a quiet night here on the homefront, with Zach out of town for a pre-birthday pub crawl with his college pals.
So I hoisted myself up onto the kitchen counter and soaked my feet in the kitchen sink.
And I somehow managed to remove the old Fairy Dust polish (no, I did not make that up, and yes, I did follow through on my vow and bequeathed the rest of the bottle to my two adorable nieces when they were in town last week).
Sadly, that's when I discovered that I have one more late-breaking side effect of chemo, to go along with my belatedly sparse brows and lashes: the dreaded discolored toenails.
Not all of my toenails, actually—just a couple.
And it could be worse—my toenails could fall out. (And it could still get worse, I'm sure.)
In the meantime, I have covered them with a deep claret-colored polish.
A Scarlett O'Hara maneuver?
Well, yes.
But I'm not seeing MOSWO for another 10 days. Until then, at least I will be able to look myself in the feet without cringing.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 8:52 PM
3 Comments:
Your toes look better than mine for sure!! And I have no excuse. Except if laziness and apathy count for excuses where toe-polishing are concerned.
Who does MOSWO stand for again?
xo,
CMB
I second Christine's thoughts (well, in regards to MY toes, that is. I have no idea what Christine's look like!).
Might be fun to get a pic of 3 pairs of feet, all lined up next to each other: yours and those of your 2 nieces, in all your respective polish colors!
I think MOSWO is "my oh so wonderful oncologist".
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