Taking Care Of My Star Player

"You aren't taking care of your star player? 
That's some bull$#&! right there."

In his comedy special, It's Pimpin' Pimpin', Katt Williams talks about taking care of your star player.  According to Mr. Williams, you are your star player and it is your job to take care of yourself because nobody else is going to do it for you.  He talks about how everybody works so hard to please other people and forgets to worry about pleasing themselves.  Get your mind out of the gutter, that isn't what he meant. 

At the time the special came out (2008), I laughed at the basketball analogy and got on with my life.  I certainly didn't feel that Katt was talking to me specifically.  But, he was and I should have listened.

Today, I got an unexpected invite to get a pedicure with my dear friend, Mrs. Mynd.  This was very unexpected, as Mrs. Mynd had undergone foot surgery a few months ago. I broke my ankle at about the same time, so we were busted and broken together for a while.  Neither of us have had pedicures in quite some time for fear of someone hurting our poor little stitched and/or broken feet.

Ankle brace = Unhappy, unpainted toes

Now, I'm not one to complain (much), but I've had a rough couple of months.  I lost a week of my life to a bout with the flu in October.  I broke my ankle in November and was on crutches for part of December.  In January, I found out I'd be in the ankle brace for another month and in February my car decided that I didn't need a working defroster.  Like I said, it's been a rough couple of months.

While all of this was going on, I was so worried about my ankle, my bills, and my car that I forgot to take care of my star player.  I sat at home (ankle elevated) and wallowed in self-pity.  Woe is me, my life is hard.  It felt like everything in my world was no longer under my control.  Realizing that I am not indestructible was especially challenging.  It seems that I struggle with the concept of asking for help and leaning on others for support, both physically and emotionally, is not my strong suit.  Man, did I hate being on crutches!  I couldn't do anything.  A flight of stairs became an insurmountable obstacle.  Did I mention that there are 25 stairsteps between the curb in front of my house and my bedroom door?

But, I digress.  Mrs. Mynd's invitation was just the ticket for reminding me that sometimes, especially when it feels like everything has hit the fan, I need to take care of me.  Five years, a new car, a new home, and a pay freeze ago, I used to go and get a pedicure once every two weeks.  Didn't matter if it was winter, spring, summer, or fall.  Didn't matter if I would be wearing sneakers, boots, or clogs.  No matter what, I would take some "me time" and get my piggies pampered while reading an outdated magazine (If you've never read it, then it's new to you).  With the economy being what it has been, the bi-weekly pedicure ritual went by the wayside years ago.  But tonight, I was reminded of why the ritual existed in the first place.



Always time for toes: my new personal mantra

For me, having pretty toes equals an hour of mindless relaxation.  An hour where no one was asking me for anything, nobody was expecting anything from me, an hour of peace and quiet. An hour where the troubles of the world don't exist is not something to sneeze at nowadays.


Another dear friend, Gertie, got me a Christmas ornament years ago that showed two friends getting mani-pedis and said "Always time for toes!".  I need to make that a personal mantra.  (It's packed away somewhere up in the attic with the Christmas decorations or else I'd post a picture of it.)   If having pretty, painted toenails makes me happy, helps me relax, and recharges me to deal with the rest of life's obstacles, then I need to make sure that there is "always time for toes".  My star player deserves her down time and her pampering.