Happy Force of July
I peeled all the heel skin off my foot last night. Haven’t done that for a while. Now it’s hard to walk unless I lift my heel up so it doesn’t touch the floor. It’s like I’m pretending I’m doing the walk of shame with a lost or broken high heel.
I put the peeled heel skin in my mouth and chew on it. I know that sounds gross but it seems the natural thing to do. It’s dark when I do it if that helps at all. The skin is thick, tough and tasteless. I feel satisfaction in breaking it down with my teeth. It’s the ultimate recycling, I think. I chew until it’s sufficiently masticated and then I swallow it. I swallow a strip of skin I peeled from my right heel.
I feel my heel again. I feel it for more rough spots, or spots where skin has already peeled back a bit. I scrape it with my fingernails until a strip appears and then I slowly rip it back. It lengthens and it hurts because sometimes the skin pulls off deep. Deeper than I had intended. But I don’t stop. I keep peeling. Even though it really hurts. Even though it sometimes bleeds.
Then I put it into my mouth.
I do this over and over again. Trying to make the skin on my heel “even’. Trying to remove all this calloused-ish skin. Like, the more I do it, eventually I’ll be left with a smooth, silky-skinned heel.
It never turns out that way.
There are so many people in my internet feeds that look so happy in their lives with their families and friends. They’re all doing things out in the world together. Neat and fun things in fun places. They have these really big smiles and their eyes are really bright or they’re laughing in a really genuine way. They all look like they love everything about their lives and that they don’t have any sleeping problems and they aren’t empty and struggling inside.
Good for them.