Weddingbee Blog

I really enjoy when bloggers I follow give some insight as to what their life is like outside of their blog. I like the snippets of what you eat, favorite movies, etc. I also feel like I owe you a juicy secret. Not some secret like, “I’m addicted to Mountain Dew.” (I’m not anyways, but I consider it to be a bad secret.)  I’m talking about the juicy kind of secret that makes you think, “Wow, she covered that neuroses pretty well!”

My secret is that I have an obsession with toenails. It’s an unhealthy obsession with unhealthy toenail hygiene. I trim my toenails to the quick once a week and clean them out religiously. I NEVER cut the cuticles on my toe nails. I will cut them anywhere in our house that is convenient to me, much to the chagrin of Lambster who constantly yaps at me to keep track of the clippings. I wish that the nail obsession stopped at my own two feet.

However, it extends to everyone whose toes I see. Summer is the height of my obsession, as I look at everyone’s toes sprouting from their sandals. Irregular cut nails? I want to file them. Corns? I want to buff ’em. Long? Oh, please for the love of all that is good in this world, please let me cut them!

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While I have contained this urge with strangers, those closest to me cannot escape my homicidal toe nail bent. As children, my Dad would cut our toenails after our Saturday night baths. When I was old enough, I cut my own and my brother’s. Until I left for college, and even when I returned home from breaks, I would still cut my brother’s toe nails. Now I cut my woolly counterpart’s. Sometimes I cut them while he sleeps so that he won’t fidget.

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When I see my toenail cutting handy work, I feel a deep sense of accomplishment and pride. It’s irrational. I know. The ends of beautifully groomed toe nails totally justifies my crazy-clipping-while-you-sleep means though. Besides that, I deal with Lamma-ramma-ding-dong’s ear cleaning Q-Tip obsession, so I think we’re even.

Tell me a secret/real life obsession of yours!