Flintstone feet, September 2007Okay, so my sister and I have this deal. We are each going to write something every day for seven days. I'll be writing here; she'll be working on a story. (A very intriguing one, in my unbiased opinion.) We both got tired of our inner editors (less affectionately called criticism gremlins), so we decided to send them on a one-week vacation. Hers is currently on a
Caribbean beach, sipping
pina coladas and enjoying a very thorough massage by a hunky, shirtless waiter. Mine is locked away in a cabin somewhere in the mountains with a German model who speaks little English and has a taste for strawberry body paint. Needless to say, they are not to be bothered.
After yesterday's rather serious blog post, I've decided to make things a bit more lighthearted today. I want to tell you about, of all things, my funny feet. Stay with me...
My little story starts on the playground at the school where I teach. I was sitting in the all-important "teacher’s chair," relaxing in the fall breeze, listening to children’s laughter. My foot started to itch, so I slipped it out of my shoe and into the smooth rocks underneath me. I found that I really enjoyed the feeling of warm, sun-kissed rocks on my bare feet, so I sat like that for the rest of recess, reluctant to go back to my classroom.
Fast forward to the weekend. I was exhausted from a busy week at work (field trip weeks are notoriously nutty). I decided to devote my weekend to myself, to really rest and recuperate before heading back on Monday. I turned off my phone, took three hot baths a day (!), napped, read interesting books, whipped up yummy pumpkin muffins and hot cocoa for breakfast.
I was reading the book,
The Joy Diet, by Martha Beck, and in it she suggested taking fifteen minutes a day to do absolutely nothing. Rather than try to quiet my thoughts, which I find almost impossible, I began by relaxing one body part at a time. Head. Shoulders. Neck. Spine. As I was doing this, I noticed that my toes twitched when I focused my thoughts on them. Ever the skeptic, I tried it a few more times. Sure enough, when I thought of my belly, it twitched. My shoulders, the same. Each body part was responding to my thoughts about it. It made me wonder, does each part of our body hear our thoughts about it? If so, I had some apologizing to do!
I put my attention back on my feet, and I thought about how many icky thoughts I’
ve had about my feet. I’
ve never really liked feet in general, and I certainly don’t like to touch other people’s feet. *Shudders* As I was staring at my feet, I noticed my tattoo, a simple outline of a heart on my ankle. I chose this tattoo about a year ago after watching What the Bleep Do We Know? If you haven’t seen it, I won’t ruin it for you, but I put the heart there to remind myself to love my body. Silly thing is, I hated the very body part on which the heart was imprinted!
In my opinion, my feet have never been an attractive part of my body. I can remember sleeping in the backseat of my mother’s car next to my friend, Angelia, and I woke up to her laughter. I asked her what was so funny, and she pointed at my toes.
These feet of mine have been called all kinds of things, most of which even make me giggle. I think “
Flintstone Feet” and “Sausage Toes” are kinda hilarious, actually. My best friend Tara and I often laugh about our “crazy toes.”
I started noticing myself become self-conscious about my feet when I started this job. My co-workers, all of them, are pedicure queens. Most of them have very feminine feet, and you would never, ever see them with a chip on their expensive, French-manicured toes. Okay, I’ll be honest. That annoys me. I mean, seriously, there is such a thing as too much perfection. And in my opinion, French manicures on toes are just, well, ridiculous. Now I’ll admit, I can be a bit of a
girly-girl at times. I actually enjoy occasional pedicures. I like to have other people pamper my tired feet, and I love the silly names for the colors. For example, today I’m wearing
Kangarooby. :-)
So back to my relaxing weekend. As I was meditating, I decided to let my feet know that I love them. I absentmindedly grabbed a book from my shelf and drove myself down to the local nail shop and settled in for the most relaxing pedicure I’
ve ever had. I was the only customer in the shop, and it was dead silent except for the swirling waters of my whirlpool foot bath. No phones, no
tv, no radio, no chattering. It was dead silent, and I focused on loving my funny feet while the pedicurist worked her magic.
While my feet soaked in the water, I closed my eyes. Instantly I was transported to a quiet beach, my toes in the water. A voice said to me, “You are going to Hawaii.”
It took me by surprise, and I opened my eyes. Quietly, I ran through the past few days in my mind. It had started with my feet in the smooth rocks on the playground. Then, I was flipping channels when a woman on the news mentioned a race on the Big Island of Hawaii. For a reason unknown to me at the time, that news clip kept replaying in my mind. Later in the evening, my roommate asked me about the Bachelor from Hawaii and his love interest. I looked them up online to see if they had married, but all I found were several beautiful pictures of them on the beach. While reading another woman’s blog, the picture that stood out to me most was a picture of her daughter’s feet in the sand on the beach in yep, you guessed, it, Hawaii. I also had noticed that I had been giving a lot of thought to, of all things, pineapples. I had watched an episode of Oprah in which a woman mentioned them, and suddenly I was noticing them everywhere. I picked up my book, the one that I have not read in years, and opened it to a random page. I kid you not, that page detailed a magical trip the author took to Hawaii.
I had not noticed the connection between those things until I sat in the pedicure chair. I realized that the Universe was telling me, in simple messages, that I am supposed to go to Hawaii.
I felt completely at peace as I waited for my toenail polish to dry. In appreciation for the abundance of the Universe, I slipped a one dollar bill into the magazine I was browsing. On it, I wrote the words, “Surprise! It’s yours.”
I have no idea how or when this trip is going to happen. I don’t know how on earth it is going to be paid for. But I can say with absolute certainty that in my future, I will be going on a peaceful, beautiful, healing trip to Hawaii, and you will be seeing a picture of these funny feet in the sand. (Note to internal editor- you are not invited.)
