I am seriously drawn to sparkly things. I don't consider myself a very girly girl in general, but when it comes to sparkly things, I'm drawn in like a moth to a flame. Like a cheerleader to a kegger. Like a fat kid to donuts. Like a Utahan to hair bleach. My husband mocks me for my love of all things glittery, but I don't care. Sparkles are God's gift to my eyes.
A month or so ago, I was walking through a casino in Vegas....was it The Paris? Anyway, I was talking to my friend Christie about something, and dead in the middle of a sentence, I screeched to a stop. There before me was a whole wall of shiny, sparkly, glittery objects. I turned slowly, eyes wide, unable to blink or hear or talk, and walked towards the sparkles like I was in a trance. When I got there, I discovered that it was a wall kiosk containing 100% sparkly items, most of them Swarovski crystal encrusted. I couldn't tear myself away. For at least half an hour I walked back and forth, practically drooling on myself, examining the wares. Examining them again. Holding them up to the light. Turning them over. Grinning like a fool. Like a kid on Christmas morning. Like a fat kid with an empty plate that once contained donuts.
I ended up, after a very long and thorough examination of all options, with this....
And I can always tell who my kindred spirits are. They stop me on the street and grab at my key chain like they are under a spell. ITS spell. Like the glittering heart is pulling them in. Like Odysseus to the Sirens. Like the Enterprise to the Borg tractor beam. Like that guy in The Tell-Tale Heart to the tell-tale heart. You should see my four year old with my key chain. I've never seen that child hold so still and stare so long at anything in her life. She cradles it and strokes it and says, "It's sooo beauuutiful" in this slow, mesmerized voice. Like a robot. Like Frankenstein. Like Sleeping Beauty to the spindle. (She does actually talk to the spindle, right?)
So now that you know how captivating sparkly things can be to me, you shouldn't be surprised that I decided to get myself glitter-toed this week.
What may surprise you, though, is just how often I find myself stopping what I'm doing to look down at my toes. And how often I look up to find Daphne doing the same thing. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't take these toes out in public or woman and girls and gay men all over the city will be following me around, staring at my feet, trying to get closer to my toes. Like those runners to Forest Gump. Like Augustus Gloop to the river of chocolate. Like the rats to the Pied Piper. Like..... Oooo look! My sparkley toes!