31/03/2026
ποΈπΏπ₯π¬π£π¦Ά
POV:
It's Tuesday evening.
Youβve just taken your shoes off after a long dayβ¦ and something just isnβt.. right.
Not spiritually. Not medically. Not morally.
You look down.
Your toenail is no longer growing with you.
It has chosen its own path.
A lone wolf.
A renegade.
A curved, thickened, yellowing symbol of poor decisions and tighter-than-necessary footwear.
You whisper, almost inaudibly:
ββ¦this isn't how I want to be remembered."
β
You consider your options.
Ignore it? (Youβve tried. Itβs escalated.)
Google it? (You now believe you have 6 rare conditions and one medieval curse that can all be cured by drinking/ rolling around in 8 litres of apple cider vinegar a day)
Ask a friend? (They physically recoil and say βabsolutely not.β)
β
Thenβ¦
You remember me.
A woman.
A practitioner.
A quiet enforcer of foot-based justice.
β
You find the number. You call.
I answer.
My voice is steady. Grounded. Slightly amused but never judgemental.
You try to explain. You canβt. Emotion overtakes you. You simply whisper:
ββ¦itβs my foot.β
I say nothing for a moment.
Then, softly:
βIβm on my way.β
β
You open the door.
I stand there, scrubs on, expression unreadable, like someone who has seen things no human should see⦠and filed them anyway.
You step aside.
I enter.
β
We sit.
You present the foot.
I take one look and nod. Not judgmental. Not shocked.
Just⦠understanding.
βAh,β I say.
βA classic βI thought I could slap some tea tree oil on it and it would sort itself out.ββ
You nod, ashamed.
β
I open my bag.
Inside: tools, yes. But also⦠closure.
There is a moment. A stillness.
Then:
*Snip*
You hold your breath.
*Drill*
You gasp.
*File*
You ascend.
β
Time slows.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog stops barking.
A kettle decides not to boil.
The universe⦠listens.
β
βItβs done,β I say.
You look down.
Balance has been restored.
The foot is once again part of your bodyβnot a hostile, unwanted tenant.
β
You stand. Tentatively at firstβ¦
Then with confidence. With purpose.
β
Two weeks later, you cancel plans - not because of painβ¦
β¦but because you simply donβt feel like going.
Growth.
β
Months pass.
You recommend me to others in hushed, reverent tones:
βShe doesnβt just fix feetβ¦ she changes lives"
β
Every now and then, when you cut your nails straight across like I told you toβ¦
You feel a presence.
Not haunting.
Just⦠guidance.
β
Got feet behaving like they have a mind of their own?
Toenails that curve like a plot twist?
Heels that could sand wood?
βοΈCall or WhatsApp me on 07598 835549
π©Or email me at footcarebytess@gmail.com
Together.. we will improvise, adapt & overcome.
Together.. we will restore order.