Girls’ Afternoon Out
My lovely wife, Sugar, aka Miss Texas, on occasion goes to a nail place for manicures and pedicures. Some women do that. Girly ones that is.
As you, dear readers, know, it is a universal truth that manly men do not get pedicures, nor do they get manicures. It is also an undisputed and widely known fact that I myself am a manly man. Well, until today that is. This very afternoon I committed an act which likely will lead to me being required to turn in my manly man club membership card.
But I can explain….
Several years ago a horse stepped on my left foot, resulting in an injury to my big toe. I don’t rightly know whether it broke my toe because I am too tough to get it checked out by medical personnel. I just know that the subject toe turned black and blue and the toenail fell off. The injury affected my gait for awhile causing me to go on “injured reserve” which as you can imagine prevented me from playing in any NFL games for that entire season, whichever season that was several years ago.
Unfortunately, that severe toenail injury resulted in the replacement toenail growing back in thicker and misshapen. Up until then, my appearance was without flaw. Since then, I have been unable to model sandals. Losing gigs as a sandal model has been costly by limiting my opportunities to earn a decent living.
So, out of economic concern, when Sugar, who was sharing a car with me, thus stranding me at the nail salon, suggested that I get a pedicure while I was stuck there waiting for her anyway, I conceded.
So I did, very self-consciously, take a seat in one of those pedicure chairs, carefully watching the front door in case someone I knew came in. I was ready to duck.
That toenail on my left big toe now looks and feels mahvelous!!!!!!!!!
Hey, before you judge me, walk a mile in my boots. It was pretty difficult with that thick, ugly, jagged toenail tearing holes in all my socks. Now my boots are more comfortable and, darn it, I am more secure about my masculinity than ever. (Just promise to not tattle to the National Football League Players Association. I don’t want to be laughed out of the locker room).