This Little Piggy

I should probably seek therapeutic help for this little episode. And for those of you who are a bit squeamish,(and you know who you are), I'd suggest you skip this column.

It's been more than a month since I've changed my toenail polish. This is an unusual occurrance as I'm usually a seven day pedicure/twice weekly polish change kind of girl. Sad as it may be, my feet are my best feature and I keep them in excellent to near mint condish. No callouses, no wonky hammer time and most importantly-flawless color on the nails. Vanity, thy name is tootsies.

How many men have lucky shirts? For bowling, for baseball, for babes? They believe the magical shirt brought them good fortune or perhaps, the shirt just reminds them of good times. I know several women who wear an item of jewelry because it holds fond memories for them.

I was wearing the toenail polish in question on a perfect day. It was, quite possibly, the best twenty four hours of my adult life.

When I remove the color, it'll be like taking an acetone swab to the last tangible evidence of complete contentment.

So, I'm torn. A lifelong dedication to impeccable foot hygeine and grooming or holding on to a feeling I'll probably never have again.

Stay tuned to my local flip flops for updates on this story.