The big
toe of my right
foot has no
toenail, only an empty place where a
toenail once clung. It looks like a
lunar crater caused by an oblong
meteor.
"
Ye gods!" you exclaim, "
How could this happen??!"
When I was younger, I had serious
trouble with a
renegade toenail, which seemed to take a
fiendish delight in repeatedly burrowing deep into my
flesh. After I suffered three
ingrown toenails the
podiatrist just decided to cut it off and douse it with a
chemical that would prevent it from growing again, kinda
biblical, like salting the
earth.
Sure.
Why not? The
little bastard never did me much good anyway. Maybe if I'd had
prehensile toes, I would have thought harder before allowing a
doctor to perform a procedure on me which would render me unable to open a can of
Mountain Dew with my
feet forever. I was never
flexible enough to scratch my head with it, and, even if I wanted to
paint it, I'm too
mystified by
bottle caps with
brushes attached to them to use them properly.
The only person who it seems to bother is my
roommate, who says, "That is just...
wrong." whenever he happens to notice that he and my
naked toe are sharing the same airspace.