V Is For Vulnerable (And My Special Relationship With Warts)

A while back I started the creative alphabet: blog posts dedicated to/inspired by each letter of the alphabet. I did two and then got sidetracked (that was before my big commitment). The two posts were A is for Amazement and B is for Bravery. Well here I am back with another installment of the Creative Alphabet. I started this post with the intention of writing “V is for Virgo” and I was going to tell you about all the Virgos in my life: from the birthday I share with my sister-in-love, the very next day after that will be Mr. P’s birthday and then the day after my amazing sister’s birthday. And today, the birthday of one of my dearest friends and members of my famiglia: the amazing artist and silk painter and fused glass creator, the one, the only Gemma Del Rio. And tomorrow my awesome friend Jen’s bday and so on and so on and so forth about all the Virgos in my life that I know and love. But…

(I WAS going to tell you all that – and I just went ahead and told you now didn’t I?!)

But I decided to go a little deeper below the surface into yet another V word: vulnerable. Being vulnerable is so hard! To live in the land of “I don’t know” to, as my darling friend and mentor Gemma Taccogna called it to “be naked.” To walk through life without hiding behind the clothes of knowledge and power and information and facts and figures and show up exactly as you are, insecurities and pimples and warts and all.

Warts and all? Yes, warts and all. I have a special relationship with warts. I used to be covered with them and thought they would NEVER go away but they did, at long last go away. I had them on my toes and on the bottom of my feet and on each of my fingers and even three extra-pretty-ones right on the top of my thumb bone. A combination of seeing a dermatologist, a podiatrist and instituting a daily regimen of applying a drugstore paint on wart remover, covering it for 24 hours then trimming the dead wart skin off with a razor blade made them finally START to go away.

Here I am being vulnerable! Admitting that I had creepy crawly nasty warts and that the process of removing said warts was even creepier and crawlier and just plain GROSSER than the actual warts themselves. But you know what? As I COMMITTED to this process of wart-removing I started doing just the opposite. I started seeing the possibility that one day I could have clear, smooth skin. One by one the warts went away.

The more I COMMITTED to the regimen of wart-removing was also more LOVE I was giving myself. I started using a warm bubbly foot bath daily and letting the dead-wart-skin soak before I’d razor it off each day. Then I added using a little fresh clean slice of a drugstore hard foot scrubber that I figured out I could cut with scissors and have a little slice to use each day. I’d feverishly scrub away the dead wart skin. (Of course tossing the now-wart-skin-infested slice in the trash each day.)

Then came the biggest part of my transformation from WART-haver to WART-have-not-er. I started visualizing clear skin. And each day I’d have less and less warts and more and more clear skin. Until one day I looked down and they were all GONE!

This is one of the biggest examples of how anything is possible. And now, by telling you about it, by being vulnerable and open to the attack of you possibly DEFRIENDING me due to the grossness of my previous wart situation, I feel light and free. And I feel closer to you, and I don’t even know specifically who you are. And I have given you the opportunity to share about your warts. Or your fears. Or the things that you do that you are embarrassed that you do but you so totally love doing. Or to ask the stupid questions or share the oddball stories.

This blog, for me, is the beginning, the very beginning, of a whole new world of being vulnerable, being naked. By being vulnerable, I have shared with you many less-than-perfect blog posts, I’ve posted on days when I felt I had nothing to say. I shared my birth story, I posted a picture of my boob, I even admitted that in 6th grade I was a punk rock criminal. (Yes, I am exaggerating, Mom.)

Thank you, darling readers, for joining me on this journey. We may not know exactly where we are going. But we sure are enjoying the ride. And we’re going to do our very best to be naked, aren’t we?

That’s all for today, darlings.

Thank you and good things.





This is post 29. I’ve decided to label the posts, not the days. I did 25 posts in 25 days and then skipped 2. And then I skipped a bunch more while I was away. But now I am back and RE-committed to this blogging thing, loving the peace that comes from writing and the momentum that comes from commitment.

This started as a 7 day commitment to write and post an entry from start to finish within thirty minutes, two sessions of 15 minutes each right in a row using my beloved Flylady timer.


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Melissa Renzi

Artist, dreamer, doer. Mommy. Working mommy. Wife and friend and daughter, too.

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