Not a Metaphor
Five days after my initial “Baby Feet” treatment, my feet have started to peel in earnest. It doesn’t hurt at all. It does look completely disgusting, or would if I hadn’t already been through so many even more disgusting things. All I can do is laugh.
I don’t want to say THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER because What Does That Say About My Life if shedding my scaly feet is the best thing that has ever happened to me, but right now, at this moment, that is what it feels like. My heels have been so horrid for such a long time.
I’m reminded of the chapter in Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Eustace gets un-dragoned by Aslan.
I’m also sleeping in our spare room because my feet are patently disgusting, and I know I’ll peel my socks off during the night — along with a lot of dead skin.
In our spare room are a wardrobe and some art . . . and come to think of it, that WOULD be the best thing to ever happen to me.
Except, of course, the part of the story where I did not die.