Sunday, January 27, 2008

No Need for Frank Costanza

Disclaimer: This blog may contain a little TOO MUCH personal information.

My feet are the vain of my existence; now there's an opening statement for you.
In almost every way that feet can cause someone a problem, mine do. For starters they are a whopping size 12 PLUS. I say size 12 PLUS, because even my size 12 shoes, do not seem to be fitting me lately, whereas I suspect that a size 12 1/2 would do the trick; (like those are so easy to come by.) Luckily for me, my feet are very narrow, Quadruple A to be exact,so at least I don't have wide and long to contend with, although most shoemakers seem to equate long with wide and many times I only see size 12W; thank you very much. Michelle (Not yet legally) K, has been referring to my feet s "Grinch Feet" for years; because she believes they resemble those of Dr. Seuss' beloved character. As a matter of fact, last night I even heard her address Nicky as "Grinch foot jr." LOL Let's put it this way - My feet are such a spectacle, that right after I gave birth to Nicky; I was still laying on the delivery table and the nurses had taken him to clean him off and do his APGAR, and all of a sudden I hear them say "Whose feet are these?" And in an exhausted, just gave birth for the first time voice, I said "MINE." I mean I hadn't even SEEN his feet yet; but I just knew that if they were comment worthy, they must look like mine.
Anyway, in addition to my increasing foot size, I have; oh this is embarrassing to admit, (but I was born with it, so it's not like it's my fault) a hammer toe on my right foot; and lastly I seem to be beleaguered with in grown toe nails quite often. Don't I sound attractive? Those of you who have never met me are completely grossed out by now I'm sure and those of you who don't know me are probably just shocked that I am willing to humiliate myself in this way, just for the sake of getting a laugh.

So let's move on. Back in the day, when I would go to Vallarta; (the day being when I was single and in my twenties;) my trips would consist of laying out by the pool, shopping, going out to dinner and DANCING, DANCING, DANCING. Suffice it to say that now that I have been married for 13 1/2 years and am the mother of 3; my Vallarta activities have changed slightly; hence our Saturday night activity of Luis, 2 of his sisters and my niece, working on removing my ingrown toe nail. OK, so it went a little something like this. I felt like I had an ingrown toe nail on my right big toe (Not to be confused with my left big toe nail which is getting ready to fall off due to a combination of fungus - I know, I just keep digging myself in deeper; AND the fact that twice I have dropped something heavy on it; so right, get the visual, the upper portion of the nail, is like deadened yellow, and the bottom portion is purplish, black - I'll give you a sec to run to the bathroom and vomit, before I continue.
(Sound of Jeopardy music plays - Doo, do doo, do doo, do do...)
OK, so ingrown toe nail. We're sitting on the porch on Saturday morning and I ask Luis to check and see if one of his sister's has a nail clipper and I tell him about my toe hurting. Surprise, surprise, he doesn't ask; so I go and find one for myself and ask him to help a sister out. He snips a piece off, but we both realized it was going t require a smaller clipper, and he did agree to ask someone if they had one. A few hours later I'm lying upstairs in the hammock, reading a book, and here comes Luis and 2 of his sisters. In Spanish, they are discussing my toe and trying to convince me to go to the Doctor, and let him give me a shot and remove the toenail. Oh Hell to the NO. There is NO way this is going to be happening. You know me; I am the Queen of Fearing Shots. Remember me, Woman who had 3 kids and no epidural or drugs (partly because of my huge fear of SHOTS) like I'M going to agree to this - Hell no. I explained that I didn't think this was as big a problem as they thought it was and that I usually had it taken care of when I got a pedicure. I told them that I thought we could handle this at home. So Luis, my niece and I trotted off to the pharmacy in search of the proper tools and such to cure my problem. Oh, this family was in their glory, let me tell you; they LOVE a project. One sister boiled water for me to soak my toe, then after sufficient soaking, Luis began clipping the nail (I know, you gotta love a man who'll clip your toe nails - and ladies he is all mine!) Anyway, I believe he got all of the ingrown toe nail out, and then my niece went to work. She mixed an Ampicilan capsule with some Bacitracin like ointment, put it on my toe and wrapped my toe in gauze in a way that would have put friggin Florence Nightingale to shame. And voila! My toe was better; and imagine that; I didn't even need a shot.

SO, now, let's fast forward a couple of weeks and it is now just the other night and my friend Jenny and I go to get pedicures. A few months ago, we found a place by my house and we really like it. It's nothing fancy; but they take competitors coupons, and you know how much I get a rush out of having a coupon. Also, they are really nice. EVEN with the state of my feet - I hardly ever feel like they are talking about me. So Jenny and I are driving over and I warned her that my left toe nail was just about ready to come off and that I thought this was going to be gruesome on many different levels. I did tell her that I was sure that it was just a blog waiting to happen; and yah, heck yah, I was NERVOUS!
SO I get the gentleman pedicurist that I never had before, and before he could take my polish off, I warned him about my left big toe. He removed the polish, and of course it was just as beautiful as we expected. He put my foot back in the water and began to take the polish off my right foot; and as he's working on my big toe, he says "Who did this to you?" Referring to my mutilated nail, I'm sure. So I said "Well, it's a long story," and I just told him that I'd had an ingrown toe nail while I was on vacation and my husband tried to fix it for me. He seemed relieved that I wasn't blaming it on a previous trip to his shop. I don't know about you normal feeted people, but whenever I am getting a pedicure; I feel the need to apologize; A LOT. So I'm doing my usual, "I'm so sorry, I know my feet are ugly, gross etc, etc;" (I mean between the fungus/dead nail, the mishapen nail, and the healing blisters which make my feet look like they have acne) I mean who wouldn't apologize?? So then what happens... he starts speaking in Vietnamese, (Big Surprise!) But in a low murmur. I said "Excuse me, are you talking to me?" To which he replied "No, I'm talking to her." Indicating the pedicurist who was working on Jenny. I asked if he was telling her how bad my feet were and he said "Why should I have to tell her when she can see what I'm working on?" OH MY GOD, dissed by the pedicure man - it was so funny, I just had to laugh, and laugh; because I know he meant it in the nicest way that someone could mean something like that. Just like the time I asked the Vietnames woman who used to cut my hair if she thought I should cut my hair short adn she said "No, becasue then you will have a little head on a big body." Why do people feel compelled to say these things to me?? LOL Anyway, the woman working on Jenny went on to say "You know,if someone had clean feet; they wouldn't come here. They come because they need their feet cleaned up." I thought this too was very nice. See, no need for Frank Costanza at this pedicure place. LOL Remember that "Seinfeld" episode when Elaine took George's dad to the pedicure place because he spoke Vietnamese (from when he was in the war;) and she wanted to see if the pedicurists were talking about her and they said "where is his tail;" and he lost it, and busted them for what they said and they accused Elaine of bringing in a spy... Too funny. Well no need for Frank Costanza here. These pedicurists tell you like it is to your face; and I respect that. HAHAHA - only me.
Anyway, I'm sure your curiosity is getting the better of you so let me conclude by telling you that the left nail was NOT ready to come off or be removed; Hallelujah! So I have saved myself that pain and embarrassment for a little while. My pedicure man said that it will come off on its own and then it won't hurt - I sure hope he's right; but at the very least it will give me a whole other blog; I'm sure.

Till next time...


Anonymous said...

My stomach hurts from something... I'm not sure if it's the laughter or the thought of the fungus!?!

M. Kalka said...

Thank God J. Lu is not one of those foot fetish guys. Imagine the blogs that could spring forth from an unholy union like THAT!!! "MMM let me lick your hangnail.....ooh yeah.....size 12....and a half....oooohhhh!! Wiggle that finger-like toe for me baby, come to Papa!!"