EEEEEWWWWW!

Well, today I made good on a New Year's Resolution. I went to a podiatrist. If you're squeamish, don't read today's entry. You have been warned!

I have a very thick callous on my right foot that's been there ever since I cut out my two plantar's warts back in my twenties.

Yes, I did. Twice. After getting the acid and using it for weeks, the things pulled out easily one day. Then a callous grew over the holes, but the pain stayed and quickly became unbearable. So I cut through the callous and found the warts hadn't completely gone. So I started treatment again and dug around them and finally got them for good. Then the callous grew and grew and grew.

I'd use pumice, lotions, get pedicures, and in desperation would take scissors to it. I'd taken to calling it a hoof.

Turns out there ain't much can be done about it except keep it soft and use a pumice on it once a week. The scissors are out. Even the doctor winced when I told her that.

The other item was three toenails that have become thick. A number of years ago I went to my family doctor and asked about it, he squinted at it for a second and said "I think it's a fungus." He wrote me a prescription for a topical fungicide, which I promptly lost. I simply didn't believe it.

Guess what. It's a fungus. It makes the nail thicken and darken, and where I used to have just one affected nail, I now have three, due to lack of proper sterilization of tools after cleaning.

Yuck.

There's a fungus amongus.

There were three solutions presented to me, none of which is a topical fungicide - so now I have to follow up on that again!

Solution 1, which only works 30% of the time, is a medicated nail polish that has to be applied every day. She didn't think it would work for me, since my "colony" is so well-established.

Solution 2 is pills that have to be taken for three months, for which I'd have to get a prescription from my family doctor. It is effective in 70% of cases. The catch - they are hard on the liver. Ah - I already take medication that is hard on the liver. Not a candidate. Next!

Solution 3 - the laser.

Now there's a solution a sci-fi fiend can relate to! Yes! Lasers lasers everywhere! Zap! ZZZZZING! BZZT! Kill! Kill! Kill!

Of course, this isn't under medicare. It remains to be seen whether my work insurance will cover it as well. It takes at least four treatments and is effective in 70% of cases.

The good news is, the fungus itself is not dangerous. Just ugly, and, if the nails grow thick enough, uncomfortable. I'm not going to lose my nails, my toes or my feet.

She then proceeded to take out what looked for all the world like a dremmel tool and grind my affected nails thinner. Only this one has water spraying from it too, like a cement saw! Now my nails are a shadow of their former selves, but a bit patchy-looking, actually uglier than before. But thin. And for twice the price of a pedicure (which is now out of the question, since I'd be contaminating the equipment) I can go back any time and get them thinned down again.

So time will tell. Part of me would like to try the laser, since it's so cool it's hot!

The Shopping Gene

I didn't get it. The shopping gene.

Whether it was because my grandparents, themselves survivors of the Great Depression, taught me to be extra thrifty, or because I never learned how to dress myself fashionably, or because I've never given my wardrobe a second thought, I have missed out on the art of finding something to wear.

I watch "What Not to Wear." I take mental notes of people with body shapes like mine and what suits them. I have even steeled myself to the fact that I may have to drop big bucks on various items.

But despite a 2.5 hour long search through the mall today, and all the sales, I still came home with nothing.

Well, I may go back after some reflection, but nothing leapt off the shelf at me, which did come as a bit of a disappointment, after all. I had dressed up for a winter walk, waddled ALL the way around the mall, looked in 5 different shops. The only things I tried on were shoes, which I had not gone looking for, but which I need anyway.

I did see some nice tops, which is what I was looking for. I have a lot of tops I don't wear. They're polyester, which makes me sweat. Or the neck opening is too big and I feel like I'm in danger of catching a cold, even in summer. Or the v-cut is too deep and shows my bra, which may be nice on a knockout 20-year old like my Daughter, but on me it tends to look like I'm too stupid to realize my underwear is showing, "Pair auld wumman..." sort of thing.

So I'm looking for something in a 2x size, which right away cuts out 80% of the merchandise available. Designers never go larger than XL, if they even go there at all. And designers for plus-size women (80% of women, in other words) seem to think that we all enjoy exposing ourselves. It's not like our heads are any bigger than any other woman's head, for crying out loud! What's with these tent-sized necks?! Giving new interpretation to the phrase "Boat Neck" or "Crew Neck." Hey - we live in the bleeding Arctic circle here! Can we not have a normal neck opening? Our heads are not the size of beach balls! And forget wearing a scarf - I've already got big boobs, I don't need to drape yet more fabric on top of them. I just want to cover the damned things!

Once I do find a top with a normal opening, it's usually got hideous markings all over it, or 3D flowers or flounces or some such other nonsense. Again, I'm already fat, I don't want to draw more attention to my chest area! Such things look great on size 2 models with no tits. We larger women look much better in clean, structured lines.

So that means all these soft, flimsy "sporty" tops look awful on us as well. All that drapey fabric looks great on windows, but only serves to accentuate every bump we've got.

So say I find a top with a normal neck and no outlandish decorations. Guess what - it's black! Yay! I'm in mourning!

And if I do manage to find one in a color, it's polyester and makes me sweat.

I'd pay for silk - if it had a nice small neck and wasn't covered in ridiculous appendages.

As I leave the mall, I walk past the men's wear and sigh with jealousy. Nobody ever puts pom-poms on men's shirts or cuts the opening down to the navel, and you don't see row upon row upon row of black shirts for men. And most of them are 100% cotton.

Who designs for plus-sized women, anyway? I can't fathom what they're thinking.