I want the dirt!

I remember one of the first times (maybe the first time?) I ever went to get a pedicure.

If you know me, you know such events don't happen very often.  But my big sister was home for a few days and wanted to take me out, so I went.  (For the record, it made my feet feel awesome.)  One embarrassing thing did happen, though.  The little old lady doing the pedicure took out the rough sponge-type thing or whatever it's called to exfoliate my feet and began to rub it all on my heels.  My lack of pedicure/foot care experience began to show as a bunch of dead skin began to come off, enough so that the little lady even commented on it.  Yeah, it was gross, and for a middle school age-ish girl it was highly embarrassing.  

I was thinking today about how many times similar experiences have happened to me.  I'm not polished in any sense of the word.  My toenails are lucky if they're painted twice within the space of three months, and my fingernails are always different lengths because I tend to pick at them when bored.  My lips are perpetually chapped come December.  I very rarely pull off the exact look I want in an outfit, if I even bother to go for a look.  I prefer bare feet to shoes any day so that my soles, if not a sight for sore eyes, are certainly a sight to make your eyes sore. 

I could go on, but essentially what I'm saying is that I'm not at all outwardly polished like the world encourages a person to be.

Actually, I don't think I was ever meant to be.  No, I'm not going to be that one who loudly defies every one of society's conceptions of personal beauty care.  I like being clean and looking somewhat normal, thank you very much.  The fact of the matter is that I don't care enough to bother with a lot of it.  I never have.  And considering where I know I'm headed for now, this is a blessing.  Even if I'm in the States, I probably still won't be bothering with a lot of it. And I don't care if I'm a missionary to Kenya, Ukraine, Nepal, or Mexico, I can guarantee I won't be lugging around foot cream and a hair straightener across deserts or through the jungle. 

I came to the realization today that this is exactly what I'm hungry for.  I can't wait.  You see, I want my life to be dirty.  I want it to be characterized by dust between my toes and shaking sand out of my shoes.  I want the sweat and the tears and the mud stains in my jeans.  I want the patched-up clothing and the laugh lines and the weathered skin, not only because it is no less beautiful but because for me it symbolizes a life well lived.   Even a life undignified.