Pretty Piggies

   I read somewhere that when dealing with a chronic medical condition, one should re-phrase “I can’t” statements into “I don’t” statements.  This word-change is supposed to give a person an additional sense of power; as if there is some choice involved in the situation.  It’s really hard for me to apply this train of thought to my own life, however, because most of what I can’t do isn’t something I chose not to do.

   With one exception.

   I don’t cut my own toenails anymore.  Every three to four weeks, I treat myself to a pedicure (nail polish optional).  

   Truth be told, it was becoming increasingly difficult for me to maneuver my legs so that I could cut my toenails.  Applying and removing nail polish was a whole other awkward task.  At my mom’s urging, I’ve begun treating myself to pedicures.  And now instead of saying “I can’t cut my own toenails” (technically I can, but it’s really difficult), I can re-phrase that as “I don’t cut my own toenails.”

   Now you should know that I am not a woman who is used to receiving regular pedicures.  Simply because my feet are so ticklish.  Just watching someone else’s feet being rubbed with a pumice stone, can set me off and get me squirming and giggling.  (During my pedicures, I ask that only my heels be rubbed.)

   Sometimes, getting a pedicure isn’t an easy thing for me to do.  It can be  difficult for me to sit in one position and keep my legs still for a period of time.  So I shift when I need to.  And I make sure that my legs are rubbed extremely gently.

   But when I’m as comfortable as I can be, I’m a happy multi-tasker.  For while my toenails are being taken care of, I get to enjoy some bonus reading time.