A Letter To My Toes

Dear Toes,

Last night I painted you purple.

I’m pretty sure this will be the last time I am able to do that for awhile. To be honest with you I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull it off last night. I mean, I can’t even see you right now when I’m standing up without leaning forward a bit. Bending over to touch you? Nearly impossible.

But you needed my attention. You were begging for a little color. Embarrassed by the fact that the doctor might see you naked.

So I went for it.

Let me tell you it was not easy.

First I had to figure out how I was going to get to you without hurting myself. Just what would be the best course of action? Should I try to prop my foot up on the sink and paint you that way? Should I put my leg on my opposite knee and attack it from the side? Or should I just enlist the help of my four year old or my husband and hope for the best?

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Instead I sat on the toilet and propped my foot up on the little stool my 4 year old uses to reach the sink. With my little wand of purple polish in hand I leaned over my giant belly and hoped for the best. If I could do one toe well I thought I could do them all.

One toe down.

Completely out of breath.

But I couldn’t stop now. Not with one purple toe. What about the other nine? Wouldn’t they be jealous if left unattended? Why, yes, they most certainly would.

So I painted each and every one of you ten little toes—huffing and puffing the whole way through. I even managed a top coat.

You look quite lovely all painted up.

Please don’t chip.



Article Posted 5 years Ago
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