I twisted it off after taking a shower, and it came off painlessly.
Here is what I found underneath:
Pretty gross, huh?
And here’s the scar I got from ballroom dancing:
I was actually relieved to finally ditch the loose toenail. (I’d had to go through boxes of band-aids protecting it from being kicked off prematurely.)
So what happens just five hours after I lose my protective toe armour? My dance teacher decides to teach my Beginner Argentine Tango class a move that comes with a disclaimer:
“If either you or your partner get this move wrong, you WILL step on each other’s toes, and it WILL hurt.”
My foot is cursed, I tell ya!
I put on my grimmest face and warned every guy I practiced with about my new recent prize for the toenail fairy.
Even after my precautions, a guy still almost stepped on my toe seconds after my warning. Luckily, my instructor stopped him.
The class ended, and I went, “Whew! Made it!”
Then I ended up stubbing my own toe ten minutes later during Intermediate Argentine Tango.
Me: Owwwww #$@%$^@^! (This was all in my head, because I was too embarrassed to actually scream. :P)
We were doing a new move involving a pivot turn (turning on one foot and bringing the other foot beside it), and I accidentally banged the heel of my foot against my toe flesh.
Yes, yet another heel hurt my foot, and this time, I couldn’t even whine about it, because the heel was my own.
Let’s recap: First, my toenail gets kicked off by a man’s heel while salsa dancing, then the front of my foot get sliced by a random lady’s stiletto heel while ballroom dancing. And then my own heel decides to join in and have a go at my foot as well.
At this rate, I’m totally going to develop some kind of heel phobia.
Don’t even get me started about the aches my three-inch ballroom dancing heels bring my feet…
Clearly, heels hate my feet!