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 toes with sadistic owners. My bro used to do this 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.