Toenails

What an intriguing title for a blog. Curiosity just forced you to read this because you probably can’t imagine what is going to come out of my mouth. (Keyboard to be more exact but you know what I mean.)

Those who know me personally know how much I love getting my nails done and know me to be pretty timely in getting them done. Well, let’s just say that I am way overdue for my nails. My last visit was way too many weeks ago but I thought for a little bit it was going to be my last visit. My normal pedicure lady, Linda, (the one who does outpatient surgery without anesthesia on my ingrown toenails) was not there. As I was talking to the lady in the chair next to me, the girl doing my nails tried to perform an exorcism on my big toe. I looked like I was having some kind of seizure when I yelped at the pain. There was not a demon in my toe but I think she may have put one in it. My friend and nail tech doing my fingernails said “oh, she’s not as bad as Linda!”

Oh, yes she was. By that evening, the demon in my toe was causing big, red swelling. Keep in mind this is just days before my big fancy dress ball. Cinderella could not go with ogre toes. I started my regimen of self healing by dousing my toe with peroxide and praying. I slathered it with some antibiotic ointment and hoped for the best. Luckily, I managed to calm the toe demon down and it healed. But, the way she trimmed my toenails has resulted in a bad ingrown nail.

Have you ever tried putting on shoes with angry foot claws? Let me walk you through the experience. The last few days have really been too chilly for my normal open toed sandals. (Although I’ve slapped them on my feet as fast as I could inside my office.) I’ve had to wear closed toed shoes and I can only imagine this is how Jimmy Buffet would have felt in cold weather. My overgrown hillbilly looking toes feel like they have been smooshed into bear traps. I can’t stand wearing regular shoes on a good day but when I have sore little piggies, it’s like I’ve gone to prison.

With my toes trapped in these shoes, I felt like the shoes had gotten smaller since the last time I’d worn them. Technically, I guess that is true since I have these extra long claws. I could probably catch a fish with these talons, that is if they didn’t ache so bad.

The delay in getting them done has been just the lack of time to run to the nail salon. I don’t have anyone to blame except me. Now I’m dreading going to see dear Linda. She does an exceptional job but I know by the way this feels, she’s going to have to give me a washcloth to bite down on to allow her to work on them. She does good work in getting my nails cleaned up but there’s this one little thing she does that I don’t know whether I’m grossed out or what. Once she is done with her magic, she takes the sharp edge of the nail she’s cut out and lays it on the top of my foot. She then points at it and says, “You feel better now, no?”

I don’t really know, Linda. You’ve made a tiny shank out of bits of my toenail then showed it to me like a cat who’s just killed a mouse. I suppose if I’d pulled that out of a woman’s big demon toe without the whole complex hearing her scream, I’d be pretty proud of myself, too. I don’t want to see the thing that is causing this pain, I just want it out. I may have to carry my own washcloth to bite down on and, who knows, maybe even a flask. Thank goodness there’s a bar next door. I don’t know why a nail salon visit should feel like surgery in the 1800’s. I guess because I grow toenails that look more like a T-Rex.