The Agony Of Da Feet

Okay:

Everyone needs to have someone in their corner, egging them on, telling them they can do it, telling them when they're loafing and telling them when to throw in the towel.

Carl Weathers had Tony Burton.

I've got my big sister.

It's a little different. I'm about three inches taller than Carl Weathers, but we do have a similar physique. My sister has more hair than Tony Burton, and a vagina. But other than that, we ready for the stallion.

Most of the time she's coaching me on life's basics: parenthood, financial planning, relationships, career choices, etc. and what have you.

Sometimes the topics are slightly more superficial. However, this does not suggest that she is less passionate in her opinion. Quite the contrary actually.

Although my sister is a real and pure alpha dog, she is also quintessentially feminine and loves nothing more than being a girl. It's a crazy little dichotomy, but she works it. Thus, the topic about which she is most passionate...is grooming.

So, yesterday we spent a little over an hour on the phone talking about, you guessed it, my feet.

It started like this. The other day I asked a young lady to rate my feet on a scale of 1 to 10. After I assured her that I wouldn't get mad or hold it against her, she gave me her answer.

5.

I know. I was expecting a 6, at least. After all, it's just the nails really. And she agreed, "Your feet themselves are fine. It's just the discoloration of the nails. It's really gross."

"Exactly, Claude," my sister said upon hearing this. "Why don't you go to the podiatrist?"

"The podiatrist is gay."

Then she got angry. "No, the podiatrist is not gay, Claude! Jesus!"

"But---"

"But nothing. 'Cuz that shit is gross. Don't nobody want someone lying next to them with crusty ass toenails. Tearin' up your nice, pretty sheets."

"But---"

"No, Claude! Like, crustiness is not cool. Like, what's up with your crustiness?"

"I'm sayin---"

"You can minimize your crustiness. You can put the podiatrist on your insurance. It'll cost you a couple bucks. They'll look at your nails and, like, take off the dead ones. It won't even hurt. Then new ones will grow. And you'll have, like, a perfectly good not-dead nail."

"But---"

"Say no to crustiness! You live a crusty ass life. And you deal with crusty bitches."

"But---"

"Like, the other day...[humorous anecdote removed at big sister's request]..."

"Okay. I'll make an appointment."

"Thank you."


Thanks for reading.

GOBAMA!

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Confession: I am making a podiatrist appointment because I plan on wearing sandals and flip flops this summer.