Toehold

Pouring down in miniature cataracts – the water kind, not the laser-surgery kind – the tears simply would not stop. Anyone who happened to stumble upon me in my liquid state might suspect that I had been chopping a tubful of onions as part of celebrity chef Giada De Laurentiis’ very own recipe for pasta alla cipollara. But it wasn’t the veggies.

The salty tsunami had been unleashed in true, heart-broken commiseration with Giada, the daughter of famed film director ‘Dino’ De Laurentiis, who Page Six was reporting had injured her toe just before she was about to appear on Dancing With the Stars. She was “for sure going to lose a toenail,” Giada advised the online tabloid.

No. No! Tell me it isn’t so! Tell me it won’t affect the gorgeous pivot turn she was planning to execute with her chiseled young partner – who, in the interest of Aquarian open-mindedness, I acknowledge doesn’t necessarily have to be a man! Tell me her glamorous gown will be color-coordinated to match her black-and-blue appendage!

At the very least, tell me to put down my iPhone™ and get a life.

All right, don’t tell me. I don’t care. That wasn’t going to take my mind off toenails, anyway. The topic just drifted into my consciousness and I don’t know why. Probably because it’s summer and everybody’s wearing open-toed sandals.

That, and sheer coincidence. While doing a little internet research on a completely different subject, I happened to come across an article in Science ABC capped with the headline “Why Do Humans Have Fingernails and Toenails?” Not possessing that particular snippet of useless information, I scratched the surface (seems like an appropriate verb under the circumstances) and learned that homo sapiens inherited toenails from our primitive ancestors, who used them to grip branches with their feet. I’m not sure which branch they were referring to: the one hanging from the tree in my backyard, or the one on Main Street with the ATM. I’m banking on the Norway Maple.

Interestingly enough, in the darkroom of my mind I also developed the memory of an old black-and-white photo I think I once saw of a guy from India – a yogin – who couldn’t be bothered to interrupt his meditations, even to cut his toenails. Suffice it to say that he easily qualified for a stall on the carnival midway next to the Alligator Man.

Which brings me once again to what has become known globally as the Library of the Strange and Inexplicable that I keep in the dank and candlelit recesses of my clothes hamper. This time around I was able to extricate a little-known volume titled Clipper’s Compendium of Nearly Socially Acceptable Toenail Tidbits, which, you won’t be surprised to learn, contains a short chapter on expectations regarding manicure. You know: When to polish. When to trim. When to stop fixating on the damn things.

Here, then, for your edification and derision, are several entries from a questionable section of that chapter, subtitled You Should be Thinking About Trimming Your Toenails When …

• You notice your shoes are size 12, and two weeks ago they were 10½.

• Your bed partner starts wearing shin guards.

• Your friends won’t go to the beach with you anymore because potential pickups assiduously avoid your blanket.

• The oak flooring in your bedroom needs constant refinishing. And finally …

• You can no longer afford to buy new socks every two hours.

All right, I think I’m finished now. And I have to say, I’m pretty proud of the way I handled what I’m sure you’ll agree could have been an awkward point of discussion. Lots of clinical detail. A variety of perspectives. A sensitive approach to matters of personal hygiene. A security check to make sure no one can get in touch with me.

Yup.

Pretty much nailed it.