Monday, November 3

I couldn't do that


I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and took my $100 stockings into the bedroom. I’ve never spent so much money on something so unappealing. Their shade is not like any skin tone I’ve ever seen – it’s not my ivory shade, nor is it tanned, but more like muddied river water. After I saw them, I promised myself that if they were uncomfortable or gross, I didn’t have to wear them. It was ok to back out. This was a trial.

I was determined to get them on without help, and so I began to insert my foot through the miniscule hole which was the ankle section. I sat there yanking and tugging and soon got my foot stuck in the ankle tube, worrying it would lose circulation during this potentially long delay. It looked a lot like a bound Chinese foot stranded in there. By the time my foot made it into the sock part, my hands were sweating in the gloves, making it hard to keep them on.  I took a little break after that victory, and decided that my cardio for the day was done. This was an intense task. Eventually they were hoisted above my stomach button, and I stood up.  

I felt springy. Far from uncomfortable, there was this feeling of being contained, light and strong. It dawned on me that I may never want to take them off. In a split second I had gone from vowing to only wear them on warm days at home, maybe, to coveting this improved vitality for all the days. Who cares about being hot if I feel springy? And what’s a muddied foot or limb in view compared to this functional and surrounded sensation?

Just as I rarely grieve the foods I can’t eat, I realised that I cannot grieve these thick pantyhose, because they bring good. So many times I have heard these words: I don’t know how you can not eat gluten and dairy and sugar. I don’t know how you bear to stay home. I don’t know how you can exercise when you feel so unwell. Maybe soon they’ll ask how I can bear to wear hideous tights.        
I couldn't do that, they say.

It’s so incredibly simple. I make decisions to live as fully and as well as I can. The alternative to each sacrifice is always worse. If you are in enough discomfort, you will seek change in ways you never thought you had the strength for. 

We do things because life is important, and our body is our vessel. 


  1. Ahhhh this post has made my day! When a close friend saw me put on two pairs of thick, ugly tights with rubber gloves one morning, she asked how I could do it day after day. 'Because they mean I can live', I replied. They mean I can stand up, leave the house, walk around a bit. Not a cure, but definitely worth the benefits.

    1. Amen!! It's all about cost benefit analysis - and feeling a little more alive is a benefit worth a lot :-)