WARNING WARNING WARNING
This post is not for the faint of heart.
So, for the past nine (or so) months my body has been busy preparing for the arrival of something new. Now before you bust out the, “Awww”s and the, “Rori, I had no idea!” rest assured this is not the sort of new arrival that Kim of Say What?! or Adult Beginner are experiencing.
No… this is not nearly as cute.
I am getting ready for a brand new… toenail. Yes, I’m sorry!!! I warned you that this topic was gross!
Read on, if you dare.
So, around July sometime I discovered that I had bruised my right big toenail. Don’t recall doing it and it wasn’t particularly painful, but I am quite sure that it involved the Russian Pointes. That led to a whole other journey regarding pointe shoes… I won’t repeat it. But the outcome is that I have found better-fitting shoes, so hopefully I’ve eliminated the cause of the bruising and this won’t be something I experience again anytime soon… unless I happen to drop an anvil on my foot. Seeing as I’ve never had any need to carry an anvil around, I should be in the clear.
But, as any of you who have bruised a nail know, the bruise is not really the end of the story. No. Instead there are months of relatively painless existence with only cosmetic flaws, easily hidden with some creative toenail polishing (at least gave me a good reason to purchase black nail polish and pretend to be edgy and goth). Incrementally the bruise grows out and eventually reaches the point where you can start filing away at it.
But then…. oh then… one day you look down and notice a certain telltale ridge across the nail. And that the nail above that ridge is all kinds of grody and discolored. The bruise is no longer a slightly gross, but somewhat bad-ass badge of honor; it’s something to be hidden away in shame. And then the pain starts. Oh the pain. Up until now, as unsightly as that toe may be, it was perfectly benign. But then I noticed that tendus to the back or ronds de jambes were more than a little uncomfortable on that big toe. When I did pointe class after a few weeks off (for unrelated reasons), I could barely make it through the warm up.
Yes, my friends, the toenail is in the process of falling off. As my teacher reminded me, when it falls off it will reveal an adorable new baby toenail. Okay, the word “adorable” was never thrown around in this conversation. I’m sure the new baby toenail will be rather sad and deformed-looking for a while. Though it can’t be any worse than my current condition.
So I’ve been stocking up on Band-Aids and cushiony tape (word to the wise… if you think you’ve got a toenail that might be interested in falling off, do NOT apply tape directly to the nail… ouch!). Trying to hide that sucker as best I can. I feel like a little kid with a loose tooth. Ready to get on with this process, but terrified to actually do anything about it. *shudders at the grossness*
And during this whole ordeal, man, it’s been getting nicer out. I want to trade the clogs and sneakers for flip flops, already! But I can’t horrify the masses by letting this thing out in public! Last week I had to sit next to my friend while she got a pedicure, seething with jealousy that I wasn’t able to get one for myself.
Twiddles thumbs… waits impatiently.