I'm Not Gonna Lie by George Lopez Read Free Book Online

if he wanders off—then you hit the button and a tiny nose hair extractor shoots out. Flies right out of your finger so you can remove those nasty little nose hairs on the go. That would be amazing. I’m gonna patent that.
    By the way, it’s not just my nose hairs that are turning white.
    My pubes, too.
    Sprouting white as Santa’s beard. Like a snow bush. I dye that area, too. I cannot allow people to see me—even in the privacy of my bedroom—and say, “Who are you? You’re not George Lopez. George Lopez does not have long white sinewy nose hairs and a snowy white pubic area. No. That’s not George Lopez. Or if it is, I have to say, what happened to you?”
    Now back to the confession. And this has nothing at all to do with vanity.
    I paint my toenails.
    And I’m proud of it.
    At the moment—I’m looking at them right now—I have painted my toenails black. And they are looking
sharrrp.
    Yes, black. Well, a shade of black. I would call this a deep midnight black, not a subtle, soft black that you could pass off as a navy blue or charcoal gray. I am aware of all of the various shades. There are dozens.
    Why do I paint my toenails?
    Two reasons.
    First, as I mentioned, my feet are important to me. You get old, your toes get beat up, your nails get chipped and cracked and ugly and messed up. So I paint my toenails to protect them.
    Second, my toes look awesome painted.
    Hey, a lot of guys do it.
    At least, a lot of guys I know.
    The first guy who told me he painted his toenails was Shaquille O’Neal. Yes,
that
Shaquille O’Neal. All seven feet, three hundred fifty pounds of him. I thought, “If Shaq paints his toenails, not only is there nothing wrong with painting your toenails; painting your toenails is cool.” So, yes, if Shaq paints his toenails, I’m gonna paint mine. And if you have a problem with that, I’m gonna tell Shaq that you think he’s a pussy because he paints his toenails.
    I don’t paint them myself. That would be weird. I go to a nail salon. Same place Shaq goes to.
    First time I went there, I figured I’d just get a pedicure. I wanted to go slow, take it a step at a time. I didn’t think about putting on any polish. When the pedicure lady finished, she said, “You want color?”
    I said, “No. No color.”
    She shrugged and said, “Shaquille O’Neal, he come, he put color. He put black.”
    I said, “Shaq put on black?”
    â€œYes. Mr. Shaquille put on black.”
    â€œYou know what? Do that. Give me the same thing Shaq gets. Put black.”
    â€œOnce you go black, you never go back. Hahahaha!”
    She went to work. She took her time, applied the black toenail polish like an artist with a tiny brush. When she was finished, I stared at my feet for about thirty seconds. I felt strange. It felt as if I were looking at somebody else’s feet. I wiggled my toes just to be sure.
    â€œYou like?”
    â€œYou know what?” I said. “It’s all right.”
    That was fourteen years ago. I’ve been painting my toenails ever since. And I’ve branched out from black. I’ve experimented with silver and purple and even veered off a single color and tried designs. I’ve gone with sparkles and swirls and some spots and crackles. After all my experimentation, I always end up going back to a solid color. Those other toenail designs are too feminine. Painting my toenails seems totally natural now. I can’t imagine my piggies without polish. I’ve become a toenail-painting fool.
    I know. It seems crazy. You never would’ve thought that I, George Lopez, would paint my toenails and actually like the way my feet look. I never would’ve thought that, either.
    When you turn fifty, you shouldn’t be afraid to try new things. It’s time to expand your thinking. Shake things up.
    Some advice.
    Before you go into the box, think outside the