Big toes, tiny toes, thick toes, painted toes – toes are an extraordinarily odd appendage attached to the end of our feet. Have you tried to stare at your toes for a REALLY LONG TIME? Don’t they start looking weird? They don’t even belong to your body anymore. Mini octopussies (Ok Grammar Nazis I know it’s octopuses) with a life of their own. Burrowing here, scrunching there, little creatures tramping the earth in search of a new adventure.
My toes have been through the wars. The nails are starting to look a bit wonky. I did try to cover up the damage and got into a ‘paint-my-toenails’ mode for a while. But I always ended up painting the toe, not just the nail. Never was very good at this girl stuff. Once I kicked a wall. My big toenail flipped 90°. The doctor said “this might hurt a bit” as he stuck in a needle to anesthetize the area, yanking it out by the root. Another toe was stamped on and broken by a horse. That needed resetting. Ever had your toes reset? They pull the bone all the way and shove it back. I remember chewing through a pillow on both occasions.
My girlfriends are expert toe keepers. Their feet are always clean, toenails manicured and painted. It’s a pleasure to look at their toes. The best toes in the photo belong to a friend of mine. The ones with white-neutral nail varnish, not too long, not too short – perfect. How does she do that? We were at Perivolos beach the other day for her sister’s birthday. And the balloons wouldn’t balloon. I hate that, buying balloons which don’t blow up. We should sue the balloon company. The alternative was to fill them with water and stand on them. For a group photo. My toes aren’t in it. My excuse is I took the photo.
There are some god-awful-ugly toes out there. Monstrous club-like things with dirty broken nails. Or even worse, lethal weapon toenail owners. My bro used to do that when we were kids. Walk really close behind me, silent and deadly as you do – and then whammo! He’d stick me with his big toenail, jabbing it into my heel. And crack up with laughter. He left his toenails extra long for one sole purpose – to torture me.
I knew this ponderous git who was repulsed by toes and feet. He forbade his wife to wear open shoes. No sandals, no flip-flops, no sexy summer stilettos. Condemned to a life of confinement and sweat. They probably had sex in wellington boots. I asked him “what about all the naked feet and toes on the beach?” “Oh, that’s different, that’s ok” he replied.
Ah well, there’s no accounting for idiots.