If you are easily grossed out, don't read this. Seriously, stop right now.
Sometime before we left Germany, I dropped something heavy on my toe. This is just the sort of thing that I manage to do fairly regularly, so I couldn't even tell you what it was that I dropped on my toe - just that it was heavy and it hurt.
We were in North Carolina in December and I noticed my toenail looked funny at the base of the nail. So of course I have to start poking at it. It was uncomfortable, but not exactly sore. By the time we got to Illinois and got settled, the strange looking spot had moved up about one third of my nail. And of course, when I notice it, I continue to poke at it.
Then we join the Y and I start working out almost every day. My toe? Still uncomfortable. So one morning after I got out of the shower, I sat down and took a good look at it. That funny looking spot? Was where the toenail had become detached from my toe. And of course, I'm poking at it. And of course, it starts to come off. Well, that's just great. Over the next few weeks, I'd guess about 90% of my toenail leaves the building. Thank you. Thankyouverymuch.
Eh. No big deal. It's winter and I'm sure the nail will be at least mostly grown back by summer. With the damaged nail off, there is no pain or soreness, which is good. However, despite the fact that I have 9 other perfectly good toes and toenails, the kids seem to insist - INSIST - on stepping on the one little piggy without protection. Hey - wait - there's an idea. Nail-less toe protectors. I'm writing that one down for further evaluation.
Anyway, all was good, the nail was slowly growing back and then I dropped a hammock stand pole on which toe? Yup. The no nail toe. And since I was holding the pole upright when it dropped onto my toe, there was damage and pain and bleeding. And lots of hopping around on one foot. And lots and lots of mental cussing. Vile nasty things.
I cleaned up my toe and hobbled around for a few days until most of the soreness went away. But it was a nasty gash. And a few weeks later the toenail that had regrown? Came off. Sigh.
So. Fast forward to present day. I've got toenail on a lot of my injured toe. It's looking pretty good for the most part. But from the curve of where the pole gashed my toe? There is no more toenail. So my toenail now looks kind of like a kindergartners interpretation of a mountain. Or a big hill. Or a lump of mashed potatoes. Or a big blob. My toe - the amoeba impersonator.
So I'm leaving this week to go an a cruise with some friends. We are celebrating our 40th birthdays. This has been planned for a while. I'm really looking forward to it. But my toe? Is fugly. I mention this to my hairdresser a few months ago and she tells me that I can have a fake nail put on. How did I not know about this?? Problem elminiated. She said I'd just need about a quarter inch of toenail so that the fake nail could be glued onto the damaged toe. I had way more than that and was feeling all optimistic. The night before my hair appointment last week? I decide that that I should take a close look at my toe and make sure that it's in as good of shape as possible. I'm trying to even out the edges as much as possible, make sure that there isn't any dirt or dead skin underneath the edges when...
Yep. The freakin' toenail comes off AGAIN. Well, at least half of it. Oh good grief. Against my better judgement I show my hairdresser the funky toe and ask if I should even bother having something done about it. I can tell by the look on her face the answer is no. And then she says, "No."
But she recommends that I try painting my actual toe. That might work. Especially if I can find some ridge filler to smooth out the area before I apply polish. Then I talk to my friend Kim. And she suggests press on toenails. She was kidding, but hey? Why not? So off to Walmart I go Saturday morning with T and take a look. I didn't find ridge filler, but I did find polish and fake toenails. And I buy them. Then I come home and attach a fake nail to my big toe. And then? I polish it. It looks great! You'd never know it wasn't a real toenail. I even wore sandals. Proudly.
Sometime during the night, I remember waking and thinking that I'd caught my fake nail on something. But it was still attached when I woke up, so I didn't think much about it. Within an hour, I realized that it felt funny. Of course, I poked at it. It raised up, like a car hood, but from the side. Sigh. So as I'm trying to see if the nail was just popping off or what, the nail actually comes off. And with it? Was the remainder of my formerly attached toenail. So now I have no toenail. And I mean, this is about 6 months sans toenail, so would it really even hurt to glue another fake one on? I'm thinking it might be worth it, because of course all the shoes I'm taking on the cruise will show my toes. And I am not buying new shoes. Am. Not.
And by the way? Painting my toe? Looked like painting a sand dune to look like part of the ocean. Epic fail. My backup plan if the fake toenail doesn't work? Band aids. Maybe I can glue a toenail onto the band aid and paint it. Heh. And also? Sigh.