Gamiila (gamiila) wrote,

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Vanity, thy name is woman

It feels strange to be stepping outside without my crutches, and it's not all good. I tend to forget that I can't run, or walk briskly even, let alone turn on the proverbial sixpence -- I make painful mistakes, but at least the ankle seems to be holding up. I'm sure it won't be long, a few weeks at most, before the bruised bone will cease to give me any more trouble; but even though it's definitely healing, it's not healing fast enough to my liking.I want to wear heels again, or any type of shoe other than trainers, really. I want to dress in skirts again. I've been wearing nothing but trousers for the last 7 weeks, and I'm sick of it.

But before I can do that, I'm going to have to get rid of the bandaging, wait for the last of the oedema to subside, and sort out my poor abused skin. Now that the purple bruises have gone, and the sickly yellow ones have started to fade as well, the continued dryness of teh skin itself is what worries and aggravates me most. I've been slapping on the Nivea for a week, but with no discernible results so far. It's probably due to having kept the leg tightly bandaged up all this time, combined with a bout of inactivity and prolonged exposure to centrally heated rooms, and will clear as soon as there's no need to stay inactive any longer, but still, it annoys me; and I'm even more annoyed by the look of my poor feet. I haven't been able to perform my usual pumice stone routine on them in weeks, and it shows.

I have a love/hate relationship with my feet. I appreciate their importance and usefulness in allowing me to get from A to B and keep me in an upright position whenever I require them to, and I'm generally thankful for their continued good health, but...I do think they're possibly the ugliest parts of my body. Maybe it's not even my feet as much as my toes: I'm convinced I've got the ugliest set in Christendom. It's nothing to do with any particular or perceived defect, either; it's just that I don't like their shape. Which revulsion has prompted me years ago to get into the habit of pampering my feet on the weekends, slapping on and rubbing in oodles of creams and lotions, painting the nails and filing away the calluses. And now that I haven't done that for weeks on end, I'm despairing of the work that needs to be done on them when I'm finally able to put my feet soles up in my lap again. Maybe I should take them for a professional pedicure -- even though that would mean having to bare them to a total stranger's scrutiny, and being completely embarrassed about it. Needs must, and all that.


On another, less personal topic: I've decided to postpone hooking my computer up to the Internet till Thursday, even if they're going to flip the switch tomorrow. I went through the installation instructions and got so confused on the second diagram, that I grabbed the phone and booked the pricey services of an official ADSL installation/cable person - let them worry about finding and connecting the splitter to the IS/RA whatchumacallit! I'm not touching it, no way, no how.
Tags: brave new world, computers, health, injury, real life

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