What a drag it is getting older….
Pedicure season, open-toed shoes, girly-dresses and skirts, fun coloured nail polishes. I look forward to all these things every year when the weather turns to a more civilized temperature.
Looking forward to a warm-ish weekend, booked babysitter and a night-out, I picked my super-fun gold nail polish, sat on the couch, dipped the brush in the bottle, twice for good measure, and brought my foot up on the coffee table for the first foot makeover of the season.
Wha? Well hello there big toe, you look a little different. What’s this you have here? A little toupée? How quaint. Really big toe? Was winter so cold that you had to sprout a few hairs to keep warm? Were you attempting a teeny-tiny disguise to play a trick on me? C’mon, I can handle armpits, legs and bikini area, I’ve got a routine down now that’s pretty efficient. But nowhere have I factored in the Big Toe. That’s just wrong.
Blech. What else do I have to look forward to as I get older? No, don’t tell me. This was traumatic enough.
6 comments:
ruh roh.... better wax that shit
I'm not going to comment about our obsessive need to be completely hairless.
Could be worse. I'm getting a beard.
I think that hairy toes are considered sexy in many parts of Europe.
And you're not unpopular -- you're on my blogroll!
That's the problem with getting older... You lose hair where you want it, and you get it where you don't. Blech.
- Your friendly neighbourhood curator
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