I was born with what I’ve considered a deformity for most of my life. The fourth toe on my right foot is the same size as my pinky toe. I’m not including a picture, because I find pictures of feet weird. Regardless, I have two regular sized toes right after my big toe. Then, there’s a sudden drop in the length and I have two baby toes. Until a few years ago, I hated that toe with all my might. It made me feel like a complete freak. For someone who never quite fit in anywhere and had an absent sense of belonging, this toe didn’t help me any. It made matters worse. In this week’s blog, I share how I made peace with a part of me that felt imperfect and unchangeable. I write about this toe to remind you that we are all imperfect in innumerable ways, but the sooner we embrace and love those parts, especially the ones we can’t change, the sooner we learn to love all of us.
I’m not sure, but it seems I inherited this toe situation from my paternal aunt. She has it on both her feet. As a kid, she loved rubbing it in and reminding me how I was so like her with my tiny toe and dark complexion. Every single time she mentioned it, I inwardly cringed. I would then rant to my mother that I didn’t like how she always compared me to herself. I wanted to be my own individual, but it seemed that what I considered my shortfalls made me less like myself. I now realize that I wanted to be this version of Chaitni with lighter skin and perfect feet, and her comments were simply facts that I needed to accept.
If anything, I wanted to be like my mother whom I found to be beautiful. The irony about her attractiveness is it would conflict with society’s standard of what is considered beautiful: my mother has a distinct birth mark above her right eyebrow. It’s hard to miss, but, in my eyes, it adds to her appeal. To me, Mom was light skinned enough that I constantly complained about wanting skin as light as hers. Mind you, I come from a society and culture that is still obsessed with light skin, so you can imagine where this insecurity stemmed from.
Thankfully, my mother never encouraged such colorism and told me I was just as attractive as someone with lighter skin. That belief is still etched in me where the color of someone’s skin never factors into how I see them. With the whole skin tone issue addressed, I was still hung up on my toe.
As I grew older and hit puberty, my insecurity worsened. I only wore closed-toed shoes or hunted for strappy sandals that covered the unwanted baby toe. I hid it so well, because I was ashamed of it. I didn’t need one more flaw on display. My crazy hair and crooked teeth were all I could handle. Believe it or not, I didn’t start wearing flip-flops until my 30s.
I went to great lengths to hide what I considered an ugly part of me. When I was 18 or 19, I was to attend my cousin’s wedding in India. It was a grand affair, and the guy I was crushing over at that time was also going to be there. When I arrived in India for the wedding and went shoe shopping, I panicked, because I couldn’t find ethnic wear sandals that did not expose my toes. Wearing sneakers was not an alternative back then.
I was stressed, because I wasn’t ready to expose my secret under any circumstances. I then had the brilliant idea of pretending I’d hurt my toe, so I somehow hid it with a band-aid. The band-aid covered both the baby toes making it hard to identify their similar lengths. I showed up with that band-aid (I did change it daily!) to all the events of the wedding, and there were plenty of them, it being an Indian wedding and all. I was so relieved by the end of the wedding, because I could go back to wearing closed-toe shoes again.
Another time, I was on vacation in Florida. I can’t remember exactly where I visited, but the unimaginable happened. I was waiting for the elevator and waiting with me was a lady in her beachwear. She had on flip-flops, and I noticed she had the exact same baby toe as me on both her feet. By that time, I had become accustomed to looking at everyone’s exposed feet in hopes of finding one other person, besides my aunt, with such toes. I halted for a second but then couldn’t hold my excitement anymore and showed her my toe. We were both thrilled that there was someone else like us. I was beaming after meeting her. My secret had only bred shame in me, but sharing my secret that time felt liberating; however, it wasn’t enough of a feeling to want to show off the toe.
Sometimes, when I did dare to wear footwear that showed the baby toe and I would catch someone staring at it, I would get uncomfortable and angry. I would stare at that person until they looked up and made eye contact with me almost silently daring them to ask me what was wrong with my toe. Nobody ever asked; in fact, they would look away embarrassed and guilty for stupidly staring.
When I would stand on my feet for hours at work I would almost limp home, because my small toe was worn out. I’m not sure if it had to do with the imbalance of weight or the shortness of it but only resting it for a while would help.
Then, finally, as I went through my phases and learnt how to fall in love with myself, I also fell in love with my baby toe. I stopped hiding it or feeling disgusted by it. It was a part of me, so how could I not love it? I began wearing flip-flops and open-toed shoes and sandals. If someone wanted to stare at it, that was their prerogative. I stopped caring what other people saw, thought or made of it.
When I showed my toe to my partner, his reaction blew me away. That’s when I knew that I was dating a unicorn. He had the biggest smile on his face and excitedly exclaimed that it was the cutest thing ever that deserved to be flaunted. I was speechless at his reaction even though it was genuine. He wasn’t saying it to appease me or prove anything to me; it is how he felt. He accepted that part of me so effortlessly, which made falling in love with him even more effortless.
The whole point of sharing this part of me and my story is to encourage you to peep within yourself to identify all that you judge about yourself. We all have our versions of the baby toe, those quirks and traits we deem imperfect, yet they are integral to our story and essence. In fact, my baby toe is one of the reasons I named my health coaching business Imperfectbodies Health Coaching.
If there are aspects that you can change, then start working on them. If there are aspects that you cannot change, unless you count plastic surgery, then what can you do to accept them and love them a little more? Criticizing and hiding those parts only adds to the baggage of life, and we all have enough of that. The first few steps will feel shaky, but eventually you will be blown away by your newfound confidence by silencing the negative inner critic.
As always, I am here to support you all the way, my brave soul. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
**NEW** My free 7-day mini course on Eating Mindfully for Weight Balance and Stress Management available here: https://fierce-originator-1156.kit.com/1577ad5668
All the best,
Chaitni