Monday, March 22, 2010

chick flicker

I gave my inner chick an outing recently - albeit a brief one. I was away with two women friends, one of whom had come equipped with a bottle of shiny coral nail polish. NP and I have only a very remote acquaintance. I ineptly coloured my finger nails once or twice as a young teenager, before drifting off to other pass-times. That smell of polish I now most associate with quick and messy multiple dabs at the ladders in my school stockings. However, that tiny brush was flourished again a couple of weekends ago, and my feet were invited to the party. I told my friend that this was their first time - these were ten little virgins with no prior experience. They had never been buffed, coloured, filed, let alone celebrated and put our for potential admiration. Anyway me and my toes - we did it. (Excuse the grammar - I'm learning to loosen up..) And for two weeks I have shone in my nether regions. My city has, on odd days, had bursts of heat, so the toes (and the chick they were connected to) came out, gleaming through the spaces in my sandals. In a recent long, noisy and tedious meeting, I rolled them to catch the light, surreptitiously checking to see if my colleagues had observed this shift in my presentation of self to world. In the quiet of a meeting of quakers, I found them squirming, and less able to frolic. As days have passed, this brand new focus on feet has been, well, uplifting, but also mildly unsettling. Last night, as I fell upon the polish remover - a daughter legacy tucked away in the bathroom cupboard, I uncovered the 'real me' with some relief. Here were my half forgotten, mostly unseen old buttons. Up on the bath edge, ridged and a bit bashed, they took on a sweet familiarity, and I welcomed them back. It seems I have returned to default position. That glam pam is back in her box, not under wraps - just taking it easy.

9 comments:

  1. Hahaha, lovely, Pam. You capture those feeling-moments perfectly. Next time we'll do it closer to winter and instead of wiping off, you can witness the slow fade — like a reaaally long sunset.x

    ReplyDelete
  2. p.s. the passsword just now to post a comment was 'carnedil'. What say we paint 'em that colour next time?

    ReplyDelete
  3. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh I've done the same! Red toe-nails for the first time in so long and I've loved them: bright and shiny and uplifting at the oddest moments. They need touching up and I was pondering the nude look again, but no - I will repaint and continue to be delighted ...

    ReplyDelete
  5. What a strangely distant relationship we have with our toes! I love your description of them as "half forgotten, mostly unseen old buttons. " They are indeed quirky little appendages - and essential. Without them, where would we be? I like the idea of every so often hoisting them up onto the rims of things so that we can lavish them with well-deserved attention. L, C xx

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hi Pen, your name is suddenly even more appropriate in light of your colouring me up. A winter coat might be a good thing. Just the odd flash when I'm scurrying to the shower or into bed. x

    ReplyDelete
  7. Good to know I've been instrumental in keeping your toes adorned Mary. Red toenails! You're ahead of me and my chick. Is that the inner minx? I've yet to find her, but I'm on the way.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Yes clarab - an increasingly distant relationship as we get longer and creakier. (Although my morning stretches are paying off - can now graze my finger tips across the carpet - and my toes if I so choose.) Curious thought about our baby lives - that we once shoved toes in our mouths with as much ease (and pleasure) as our bunched up fists. Perhaps that's something to aspire to? x

    ReplyDelete
  9. Perhaps because my toes are further away from my head I pay less attention to them. Kinda like au naturel though. No offense to the painted hussies out there, though.
    As for grazing "finger tips across the carpet" - the guy thing is to graze your knuckles...

    ReplyDelete