French Revenge

Friday was the big surgery day for leftie.  Everything went well except for one thing.

They took away my pedicure.

What is the totally natural and girlie thing to do when scheduled for foot surgery?  You go get a rocking pedicure because no way in hell are they seeing your feet without one.

When they call you for your pre-op appointment and tell you to be there at the BCD (butt-crack of dawn) they tell you not to eat anything after midnight.  They tell you not to wear makeup.  They tell you to make sure to wear clothes that will be easy to get into with your clubfoot.  They say to leave all jewelry and valuables at home.

They don’t say anything about naked toes.

So imagine my surprise when they looked at my toes and said “oh, those are really cute!  Too bad they have to go.”

What what what? Them’s fightin’ words!

Sometimes a little bit of cute is the only thing that gets you through the day and on a day that involves tubes down my throat and a shower cap on my head? I needed some cute.

So two nurses got out these little packets the size of alcohol swabs but are instead acetone, and they tried to remove the cute from my toes.

Bwahahahahahahaha, bitches!

It was like going after an elephant with a flyswatter.  I took way too much delight in the fact that it took the both of them 15 minutes to chisel through the french manicure on 5 little toes, and the whole time they marveled at the stick-to-it-iveness of my fabulous pedi.  Well of course it’s fabulous! Duh!

Then they turned my entire foot pee-yellow.

But that was ok because I got to have the last laugh while they were shaking their heads and asking where I get my pedicures as they were walking away.

I woke up with the storm trooper boot covering up my naked-toed yellow foot anyway, so in the end it didn’t matter, but I still know.   I still know and I will plot my revenge.