About a year after husband and I first got married I was asked to play in a summer league basketball game because the team was short a girl. I was more than happy to help out and was extremely excited to play.
As a post there are certain things that you have to accept. One being that it can get pretty physical. I'm fine with that and love throwing elbows when the ref isn't looking. Another thing I have accepted is that my feet will get stepped on, they were a size 11 at the time (and thankfully have since shrunk to size 9 and 1/2s).
During said summer league game I was thoroughly enjoying battling in the post position. The other girl kept stepping on my right foot. Over and over and over. I paid her back with a few elbows and knees but played through it. Toward the very end of the game I noticed that I was starting to limp a little and that my right big toe was hurting really bad, but I kept playing, and she kept stomping on my toe. After the game when I took my socks and shoes off I realized that my right big toe nail was so bruised that it looked like I had dark purple nail polish on.
I promptly painted my toenails so I didn't have to look at the ugly thing. I was going to be in a wedding in four months and wanted my feet to look somewhat ok since I was going to be wearing strappy black heels.
A month before the wedding I was on my knees digging through my shoes in the closet. I found the pair I wanted and when I scooted back my toe nail got hooked on the carpet and completely separated from my toe, barely hanging from the base of the nail.
I regret to say I reacted very poorly. Some would say I became hysterical and irrational. It didn't hurt, which made me even sadder because that meant it was supposed to fall off.
As I sat there on the floor in front of my closet cradling my big toe while sobbing about how no one can be sexy without a toe nail husband tried his best to console me by saying "we can just glue it back on". I clung to that phrase like a drowning person clings to a life raft. Then to my despair we found that we had no more super glue. I sobbed even harder. Husband, desperately wanting me to stop acting hysterical, offered to drive to the store really quick. He was back in record time only to find that I was still crumpled on the floor holding my toe sobbing about being ugly and unsexy.
We glued the toenail on.
It fell off two weeks later. There was much less crying involved as I accepted this fate.
Hint: the beauty salon can glue a fake nail on that looks exactly like it was real. Just in time for weddings too. You don't even have to cry, just ask.
Yesterday, in my fit of rage at seeing my water pipe had been savagely chewed threw, I somehow bruised my fingernail. It hurts pretty bad. I really hope this one doesn't fall off. Husband won't know what to do if we have a repeat of the toenail episode.
Also, I was telling this story to my friend. She immediately stubbed her toe and lost her big toenail. She handled it much better than I did. She didn't even cry.
All that to introduce my picture of the day which is of my bruised fingernail. I'll keep you updated on whether I keep this nail or not.
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