You don’t know my first or last name, so certainly you don’t know my sister’s. But, just to protect her further, I will change her name for the purposes of telling the story of her glamorous curly toenail.
Snickerdoodle was older than me by a year and a half and I IDOLIZED her. She was very pretty, she had brunette hair with a natural blonde streak and you could get her to slap your face HARD by calling her a skunk. She had big brown eyes and well yes she had a curly toenail, second from the top on the right foot. I LOVED that curly toenail! We loved a lot of weird things back then. We tried to jump out of the backyard tree onto our arms because we wanted casts and when that didn’t work; we enlisted the aid of our OLDER sister, Seniordoodle, who tried to break our legs like sticks over her knee. Didn’t work. No casts.
Back to the curly toenail. I loved it you see. I wanted to show it to strangers. This HORRIFIED Snickerdoodle! How DARE I try to show her curly toenail to strangers, even if it WAS the most glamorous curly toenail in all the world?
It seems like the greatest story of perspective ever told. At least in this grandiose bipolar mind. So I’m wondering, during my 46th year, never having been married, vowing to draw love into my life in 2013, but really, REALLY wondering: Could anyone ever love my bipolar-ness? My sweet and sour-ness? MY curly toenail? It’s a question I have long pondered. Because it ain’t goin’ away, folks! I’ve tried to kill it! Medicate it! Smoke it! Beer it! It’s stayin’. Is there any loving it?
This will be my great experiment of 2013. Can I love my bipolar? Can anyone else?