Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have my toenails removed not only from my body, but from my life.
I spent the majority of my years 12-25 wearing steel toed boots, which to the uninitiated means I more or less actively participated in foot binding. Most of my toes are huddled together like war zone refugees while the others, subject to repeated breaks, skew off in random directions as if they were attempting to flee the confines of my feet. Keep in mind that this is the state of my digits before taking genetics into account. My pinky toe (yes, I say pinky, I also say tummy and pee pee – I’m a dad) sports what our family quietly refers to as a ‘horn nail’ – a smallish dot of a toenail that grows more to the vertical than the horizontal, much like the business end of a rhinoceros.
Now I’m not a huge supporter of cosmetic surgery but on this instance I could make a strong exception. These razor-sharp pedi-claws have never done me an ounce of good. They don’t improve my looks or ease my ability to wear shoes. The only scenario that even is even remotely in favor of keeping them is one in which I use them, slashing and clawing like a badger, to defend my family from marauding animals. Backed into a corner, I thrust myself between my loved ones and the aggressor, let’s say badger, and we trade blows in a frenzied melee. Although we’d be equally matched in armaments, I would have the advantage of Man’s Cunning and… where was I? Oh yes, my toes.
The real problem is actually that of proximity. It has been suggested that the only comfortable manner in which I could reside in a bed with my wife would be one where I was wearing Kodak film canisters on each toe as a sort of sheath or scabbard. The Spouse and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary and I can think of no better gift to offer her than that of reduced sharp points on her husband.
So… anyone know where I can hire a reputable nail removal service?