Skip to main content

A tale of my toes

I had never had a pedicure until last year, when Mama took me to get one.
No I'm no dirt poor and un-aware that people get pedicures. I had had manicures, but never the feet.

I'm not specifically sure why. I've never had a bikini wax either but I'll be sure to let you know if I do.

So back to my toes.

I have ugly toes. Not hammer toes, not grotesque ballernia toes, sorry to all the swans out there, but really your feet look nasty. You may have tiny little butts and tight thighs but your feet, oh they are nasty.

Genetically speaking I am pre-disposed to in-grown toenails. I would get them so often that soaking in Epsom salts became a weekly habit. Once in a while a icky infection would present and I'd have to become best freinds with hydrogen peroxide and triple antibiotic.

About 15 years ago I had this lovely procedure done. The official name is lateral matriectomy. It's the surgical removal and deadening of the nail bed.

Long story short, my nails are more narrow than the original nail bed. The toe doesn't re-adjust itself to the size of your nail. The nail bed is there and if your nail is smaller than the bed, there is just some extra space on the side. Sort of like the borders on a picture. Think smaller picture so large borders.

The doctor puts an acidic solution, usually Phenol, on the offending nail area, and wa~lah...no more in-grown toes.

But now my nails trap dirt on the sides. It's not so nice looking. I can scrape it out but than the skin gets dry. Instead I choose to go and pay someone to soak and clean my nasty little toes.

This tale doesn't have a sad ending, nor a happy one, it just ends. Ends with the knowledge that tomorrow I shall go and have my pedicure and all will be right with the world for the next 10 days, toe speaking.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Rats Exposed!

I yelled that once. Not really yelled, more like exclaimed it loudly and with panic. Panic caused by the fear of projectile vomit coming out all over me and everyone else at the table. I was on Roatan, with two friends, Missy and Prissy. We had been "dolphin trainers for a day" and had chosen to buy the cheap lunch with the locals. We were told they had only two plates of fish left and than the conejo. Conejo is spanish for "rabbit". So I made the sacrifce and let the twins have the fish. It's not my favorite meat, but I figured what the heck..when in rome... All was good until the american dolphin trainer walked by and was kind enough to tell me that "conejo" wasn't the "rabbit" I was thinking of. She said the magic word.."Watusa" Abruptly a plate with rice and fried plantain appear with a dark sweet smelling meat...Watusa. That's when the yelling came in and the controlled gag reflex fyi....Watusa is a damm r

I miss my mom!

I can't express to anyone why the ache of missing my Mom comes and goes at is does.  Perhaps it's because I am approaching the anniversary of her death, September 28, 1988.  But beyond that, right now, this moment, I am aching for my Mom. I had such jealousy of my friends who passed by the bullshit of teen years and got to know their Mom's as fellow adults.  Cohorts that supported each other.  In reality of my three closes friends none of them have had that much extra time with their Mom's.  Missy and Prissy lost their mom to cancer not long after I did.  Graybelle has lost her mom to the absence of other distractions.  But still I ache. I want to know what my Mom's favorite color was.  I want to know what she wanted to be when she grew up.  I want to know how she felt about gay marriage.  My gut tells me she wouldn't have given a fig, which is how I feel. But mostly I want the warm embrace.  The hug she gave me when I started my period at Burgerville.  I

In anticipation of my 40th birthday

These are just a few of the things I've learned... Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should do it. If my dogs don't like you, there's a good reason. Wearing the right size bra makes all the difference. I'm not as secure as I appear, and neither are other people. Keyless entry remotes are very helpful in finding your car in a parking lot..honk and look. Red wine makes me sweat. If you can't say anything nice, come sit by me, I'll do my best to keep you out of trouble. I am my own worst critic and the only one that matters. If you think about someone far more than they think about you, you need to re-think your thinking! And my own personal motto.... Pray like you mean it, Love like you mean it, so you can live like you mean it. Later, J