SOLC Day 23 of 31
I have indulged in having a pedicure every couple of months for the past several years because I rationalized that toes well taken care of were healthy toes. Plus I liked the way they looked, even if no one saw them because it wasn't the right season for parading groomed feet. I always carefully select the polish color, usually settling on the same darkish red. A few weeks ago I decided to be wild and crazy when picking my polish color. I figured it was months until open-toe shoe weather, why not? So I picked a shade of blue-green-grayish. How very daring of me.
Fast forward the warm weather of an early Spring. My sandals were calling me and I answered. During the first day I wore them, my eyes wandered toward my feet, cringing at the where-did-it-come-from color. As I headed to bed that night, at a much too late hour, I thought, oh certainly I can quickly change the color. I reached for the bottle of nail polish remover. About a quarter inch of the liquid remained in the bottle which I soaked up with the one remaining cotton pad. I started scrubbing at the odd polish. It was on very securely, not wanting to leave. In desperation I grabbed tissues as the next best scrubbing pad. Finally the polish was removed enough to add the traditional reddish color. As I started applying the polish, I realized how spoiled I am. It was like I was 13 again getting a pedicure from a friend. The polish smeared, the surrounding skin covered. I dabbed a Q-Tip the best I could, attempting to reveal the nails.
I did wear my sandals the next day with the embarrassed toes. I couldn't wait until my next appointment to get them fixed, to bring them back to normal. On my way home I stopped at one of those shops that fix toes quickly and coughed up the additional money. It was worth it. Again my toes are happy.