The last few days I've acquired a disgusting, yet satisfying habit. It's the result of going all summer wearing only sandals, spending a lot of time outdoors and doing nothing to take care of my feet. Who knew you had to take care of feet? Aren't they supposed to just kind of hold their own? Anyway, the other night as I ran my hands over my incredibly rough calloused heels my nail caught a piece of rough skin. And pulled it. And pulled some more. And it didn't hurt. And underneath was nice, soft, new skin. I've now unearthed a nice inch long gash of pretty pink skin.
And I am turning into my mother. If ever I needed proof, this is it. I vividly remember sitting on my parents' bed in the morning watching my mother pick at very dry calloused feet. I also remember wondering how her feet could get like that. And of course I never imagined mine would do the same.
There's still hope maybe. Winter and socks are coming. I can still moisturize. Just don't tell Christina- she's already accused me of turning into Mom more than once.