Can’t touch this!

Don’t touch my toes. Never. Just don’t touch them. In case you are going to get closer to touch anything close to my toes you have to tell me first, then I’ll get mentally and physically ready for it. If you do, I’m sure you wouldn’t ever do it again, unless you are a horrible person. After seeing the suffering expression in my face you wouldn’t dare to do that again. In that exactly moment you would believe me when I say: YOU CAN’T TOUCH MY TOES.

Nobody can touch my toes. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know why.
It has been like that since I remember. Actually since I don’t remember. I have been told I cried in my cradle first time my mum cut my toe nails… I still find it quite shocking, even though I can’t remember me not having trouble with my toes, specially my toe nails… After 29 years of ‘toes-existence’ it still shocking to me.
I just don’t know why! I would love to know why… Do you know anyone having that exactly same issue?
What would provoke a baby crying because of someone touching her toes? My baby condition didn’t let me have the wisdom to acknowledge toes were my little enemies. I didn’t know back then that they would limit my life routine somewhat. Oh well, I might have sounded a bit dramatic there, but it’s limiting me in some specific areas… I don’t even like the view of other people touching their toes. Yes, it’s bad like that.
I’m just thankful it’s not my fingers. Oh dear, I’m convinced that would be much worse. So thanks, whoever/whatever gave me this ‘gift’, I prefer my toes instead of my fingers. Let’s stay positive.
I used to think everyone had the same issue. In my childhood I thought it was a common thing, I didn’t even think about it like a ‘problem’. Then I just started to observe people was acting absolutely normal about their toes. I got confused, I thought I was weak… It took me a while to accept the fact that I was different on that sense. I couldn’t fight it, I couldn’t explain why. Nobody would really understand why my toes were so sensitive little creatures. Sensitive in a bad way. They give me this bad feeling inside. I could define it like a cold shiver, mixed with pain and anxiety. I try to hide it, but I still feel it inside.
I used to have some kind of nightmares about bad men touching my toes when I was a kid. Was that intended to prepare me for the future? Was it a sign to let me know I would have to confront bad men or just men trying to touch my toes? Oh well.
Because of the proximity I consider my feet the war zone. If you let everyone know they can’t get close to your feet, then your toes are more safe.
My limitations include:

• Not being able to go to crowded places on my sandals, flip-flops or anything that would expose my toes to the danger on someone stepping on them.
• Suffering in a way I can’t really explain every time I cut my toe nails (it never gets better, I still can feel ‘something have been disturbing my toes’ after half an hour). Although I do it every week, I promise! Pedicure is a crime, it just shouldn’t exist as a word.
• Foot massage is not a possibility. Don’t even think about it.
• I can’t sleep without socks. I hate the feeling of my toe nails in contact with bed sheets. And yes, I can’t sleep -literally sleep- with anyone without socks. If they like and accept who I’m, they accept my socks! By the way I have a sock-fetish, I love them, specific ones. That might be what you become after socks being so needed on a daily life. I more or less have socks for every thing, depending on what I’m going to do while I wear them.

Despite these inconveniences, and some others I can’t remember or just don’t think about them  -as far as they became normal in my life- I have managed to accomplish one of my dreams. Might be one of the things that include more toe-suffer from all the toe-suffer possibilities: Ballet.

I have ‘danced’ (since I can not really dance yet and probably won’t) on pointe shoes. During my first lessons I experienced the most pain I have ever experienced in my entire toe-life. As much as to feel dizzy and about to faint. Horrible. Intense. Insane. Someone dare explaining to the ballet teacher you have some strange problem with your toes? I wanted to avoid it, but I had to.
First ‘teacher’ told me to quit after the first lesson. She was not a teacher, just a student playing the substitute roll, so I didn’t let her win that battle. Not being able to sleep during the nights fearing your next pointe-lesson shouldn’t stop you from doing what you want to do. I didn’t quit.
Second teacher couldn’t stop telling me her fantastic stories, blood-related, from when she was a student. That just made me feel more dizzy and down. But I didn’t quit. After a couple of weeks she noticed my progress, so she stopped the ‘didactic’ therapy.
Third teacher was just lovely, patient and encouraging (by nature). She was told by the second one to be careful with me. Then I understood my second one was not so bad. Thanks.
Forth one was pushing a bit harder, nicely.
Anyway it sounds like a lot of teachers for just 3 months.

The only similarity with all the teachers was that they never had to tell me to try harder. I couldn’t try harder. Consciously accepting that my suffering was out of proportion compared to other students. I did it for 3 months before I had to quit, sadly, for other reasons. During those 3 months I had pain in my feet every single morning, but I knew it was worth it.

I fear my next lesson, whenever it’s going to be.
I can’t wait to feel the floor under my toes again.

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