Now, for those of you that came here searching for some kind of crazy large vegetation molestation porn, then I’m sorry to disappoint you as this is not what this is about. So go back to Google and try again. I just called her Pumpkin as a term of endearment, much like one would call their lover “baby” or “babe” or “snookieookums.” And she will remain under the pseudonym of Pumpkin for the sake of our modesty. (That is also the reason that there aren’t many descriptive pictures to accompany this story. Well, that and I’m lazy…And I don’t want to provide badly drawn porn for you weirdoes.)
Pumpkin had previously been helping her parents pack in order for them to move to a new house. No big deal, right? Well, if you know my Pumpkin then you know that simple things such as this usually end in horrible catastrophe and injury. This time, it was her toe. Her big toe was squished by the corner of a desk that she was helping her mother move.
Now, if you have ever injured your toe, you know that 8.375 times out of 10, that toenail is going to get dislodged in some way. It’s painful, it’s horrifying, and if you’re a vain princess like my Pumpkin, the dislodging and/or loss of a toenail is SOUL CRUSHING END OF THE WORLD DEVASTATION. Now, when the offending desk fell on Pumpkin’s toe, it did in fact, dislodge the toenail only PARTIALLY. So the nail was still intact. And Pumpkin was desperately clinging to the hope that it would just grow out normally, and that it wouldn’t fall off entirely. I was once a cosmetologist and I knew that her hope was in vain and that the best course of action would be to remove the nail entirely, so long as the nail bed (matrix) itself wasn’t damaged, the nail would grow back fine. But regardless of what I had to say, she was steadfast in her belief that if she could just keep the nail there, it would grow out and she would never have to deal with NOT having a toenail. I love her, but we’re talking about a woman that won’t go to Wal-Mart at 3am without full makeup. I think she’s beautiful no matter what, but we are our own worst critics, and if you were to hear her describe herself without makeup, you would have thought I was dating the crypt keeper. Then again, if you were to hear me describe myself, you would’ve thought that she was dating the five million pound elephant woman. We’re human females. It’s what we do. But I digress…back to the horrific toenail of death.
It started off like any awesome anniversary. And if you don’t know what I mean by “awesome anniversary,” then I suggest you shut down your computer, go out and find a significant other, consummate the relationship, date long enough to have an anniversary, and then you’ll understand what an “awesome anniversary” is. So we were doing “our thing,” so to speak, (sorry guys, that’s as graphic as it’s going to get. I’m not going to take away from the actual hilarity of the story just so you can get your rocks off. There’s a lot of other websites for that) when it all started to go horribly AWRY…
Yep…that’s right. Somehow, my knee hit her toenail. And that finished dislodging it completely. It was now hanging on by just the cuticle and the gooey backend of the nail bed (the nail’s matrix).
Bloodied, in pain, and pissed as hell (because during our “happy times” she was ALMOST THERE before the injury occurred…and if you don’t know what I mean by “ALMOST THERE,” then go get some friends and have them explain it to you, loser.) Pumpkin sprints to the bathroom, leaving a trail of toe blood behind her, and a very confused me sitting on the bed wondering what the fuck just happened. So I get up, toss on a t-shirt and boxers, and go to the bathroom door, which she has, for some reason, locked. I can only assume it was locked so that I could cause no further injury to her.
So, being the good girlfriend that I was, I rushed off to grab her a bathrobe. Only then, with this peace offering in hand, was I allowed into the bathroom, where I was greeted by a sobbing girlfriend with a bloody toe.
Guys, I have medical training. I have had cosmetology training. With these two powers combined, I became “Captain Save-a-Toe.” But Pumpkin is a fragile creature, easily prone to bruising, breaking, and pretty much needs her own plastic bubble if she ever wants to see the age of 30 without being confined to a wheelchair. And intense amounts of sudden pain is not something that she deals with well at all. Just seeing her toe in that state had her hugging the toilet and fighting the vomit. So, I went for makeshift anesthetics: Bikini Zone (lidocaine, a topical anesthetic) and some generic spray anesthetic that also had lidocaine in it as well.
Essentially, I numbed her toe. And then I pulled out some needle nose pliers and a razor blade.
That’s right; I preformed bathroom surgery on my girlfriend’s toe. I scraped away the rest of the tissue under the nail with the razor blade, counted to three, and yanked the fucking toenail off with the pliers. And she didn’t feel it because I’m pretty sure there was enough lidocaine on that toe to have numbed it to the point that I could have cut it off completely and she wouldn’t have noticed. But I loved Pumpkin, and I like her cute toes, and I wouldn’t have done that to her.
Afterwards, we cleaned up her now nail free toe, put a Band-Aid on it, and went back to bed to go to sleep…cause let’s face it: After you have to rip off your girlfriend’s toenail with a pair of needle nose pliers, you’re not gettin’ ANY for a while…
The aftermath was mildly amusing as well. As you recall, Pumpkin is a vain princess. And as soon as it was healed enough, she began polishing her toe to simulate a toenail being there…And she was actually pretty good at it. But I knew the truth hidden under that pink polish.
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