Braced Myself
I never knew I needed
to get a pedicure every
two weeks on my small,
yet waiting and wanting feet.
Pedicures became my signature
salve, staving off tears of retreat.
It began in 1982. “Ilana, I’m so
sorry to tell you that there is a
severe curvature of your spine.”
Scoliosis, severe, back brace, mine?
My dad is a leading orthopedic
surgeon so I was fast referred to
the leading scoliosis specialist.
Dr. Graham. Renowned, the best.
His office was in NYC. At 12,
this all seemed very exciting to me.
Once in NYC, I saw it would likely suck.
How is it that I was now to be stuck
in a Velcro corset? My crooked spine
forced it for the next 6 years. So, I accepted and dutifully wore my brace.
Yet, I felt disgraced as puberty arrived,
undressing in gym class, nowhere to hide.
Second-base as a teen awkwardly delayed
as I secretly broke free of the fiberglass cage.
But then there was my pedicure, mom always
made sure my toes were polished and shone
as I couldn’t reach them braced on my own.
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They were painted shiny pink with sparkly glow.
Though at the time I didn’t know,
my mother knew what I needed
to distract from the pain of being restrained
each time I grew and saw
Dr. Graham. Shopping sprees at Bloomies,
frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity,
and pedicures at the Golden Door Spa
brought smiles to my face and associations
of positive memories with those appointments
in NYC. I knew it would become my beloved home. I’d come back here to live once grown.
And I did. Over and over again. Seeds were sown.
I’ve diverged only a few times in the four decades since seeing Dr. Graham. I still get pedicures every two weeks.
Looking back, I never knew that this simple act of toe tending could trigger happiness instead of da’feet 😊.
