Who would have thought that the simple task of painting one’s own toenails would give a stark reminder that not only you not as young as you once were, but what little flexibility, dexterity and visual acuity you had been lost along with your restraint when using profanity. I just discovered that, by not only trying to put polish only on my toe nails, but going for broke and trying to paint a simple tricolor design on them.
What was I thinking?
My first problem is that my toes are now too damned far away. I can get closer to my left foot than my right, thanks to spinal damage. If I try to paint by sitting and bending over, then my slowly….oh so slowly shrinking food baby and its matching middle-aged grandma double chin, gets in the way. I still can get a foot up onto the bathroom counter. It’s not pretty and my hips bitch and moan the whole time, but I avoid curved obstructions easier that way. Then I have to tackle issue #2.
I’ve never been all that coordinated. In fact I readily admit that I do lack a coordination gene. I can stumble over thought, and fall down over the ghost of pebbles turned to sand. I drop everything, pens, glasses, my phone, my food. If its in my hand, an item’s remaining there for the time allotted is in peril. I also have learned that my artistic skills are best left to crude stick figures, and coloring books. The act of painting polish neatly onto a nail is beyond my skill set. And I was professionally trained! Or at least they tried. I can make either a single color that I wait to dry, then pick off all the overage, or a beautiful mess, with more than one color. Which is caused in part by #3.
I have had horrible myopia since third grade. I can now wear contacts to mostly correct my distance vision, but then a couple of years ago, my close vision decided to take a trip just a bit further than the length of my arm. Ironically, I can see perfectly, if my contacts are out, and any object is no more than five inches from my face. Readers, I now own 4, help with closer activities, like reading, computer work, texting, Facebook. But there is this no clear vision zone. That is the closest I can get my feet to paint my toes. That means I am painting tiny little dots of nail, in a blur.
If I wasn’t so darned independent and very ticklish I’d get daughter to paint my toes for me, or rope my darling spouse into it. But not today. Today, I;m just waiting for my brightly colored mess to dry.