Death and Rebirth: Tale of Toenails

Last January I skied in a pair of boots that were too big, slammed my toes up against the front for a few hours and, to my horror, killed by two big toe nails.  Their death was slow.  First, they bruised.  A few months passed and they became brittle and then, one of the jerks just loosened itself from the body and had to be cut off.  A thin layer of ridged nail was left, thank God, since I expected there to be just goopy skin, but overall, the whole thing was horrifying.  I've scared children, manicurist, female friends, but to my shock and amazement, guys really don't seem to mind.  I was at the beginning of a relationship when the first toenail dropped and not only was the handsome fellow not disgusted, he seemed to like helping me deal with the departure.  He was the hero, I was the wounded gazelle.  Nice.  

Turns out, most dudes have lost a toe nail, and to them, it's no big deal.  Every guy who saw the bruised toenail would say, "oh, you're gonna lose that."  I would pout and say, "but it's going to be sandal season!  I'm disgusting."  The guys would just scoff and move on.  Looking back, the only disgusting thing about the situation is that I would spend time crying over lost toenails.  The other toenail just fell off.  I'll miss it.  It was big and beautiful and really looked good hot pink but it'll be back.  In the mean time, I should probably do some badass volunteer work (note to self:  find charity.  Being this self-involved is not badass.)  After all, some little underprivileged girls can't even afford nail polish for the nails they have.  

OOOOOOHHHHH!  Maybe I could give underprivileged girls manicures?  Start my own charity. That's badass.  I'll be looking for volunteers.  People, just because we've lost toenails, that doesn't mean we don't still have a lot to give.