And now, a sexy story for you

A couple of days ago I was getting out of the shower, and while I was changing, I noticed that I had cut the top of my toe. (Not the big toe. A lesser toe. I don't know why this detail is important.) Scott noticed it as well, or maybe I stuck my toe in his face and shouted "LOOK I AM BLEEDING PLEASE HELP" (I sometimes do this) and he said, reasonably enough, "How did you do that?"
I hesitated. Then I thought, you know what? We've been together for seventeen years. It's about time he knew this about me. "Well," I said, "I…I must have nicked it with the razor."
"The razor? But why…?"
"Because," I said. "Because I have furry hobbit toes. And I shave them."
"You ... shave your toes?" I have never seen him look more confused.
"DON'T JUDGE ME," I did not shout. But I thought it. Maybe I said it?
"It's better that you don't know too much about this," I said. "But yes."
"But I don't understand," he said, "why would you shave them?"
"As opposed to what? Waxing? Burning?"
"No," he said, "I would think you would pluck them."
And then I backed slowly out of the room, then out the door, then down the stairs, and now I don't know where I am.

No, but seriously. Pluck them? I don't even know where to start with this. Does he think I have one or two weird aberrant hairs that sprout up on my toes? I have tiny mini-forests that would sprout on every toe if I didn't maintain them. Should I not have told you that?

Perhaps the sexiest detail in this story is that I was getting ready to go to the OB/GYN.  Yes, I was shaving my toes for my doctor. No reason she should have to deal with anything less than the most hairless of feet in her stirrups!

Aaaand I've just lost my last male reader. My work here is done.