Believe it or not, this blog is about my TOES. Specifically, my second toe (on each foot).
Sad confession: I have my father’s feet. Now, no girl really wants to say that. My feet aren’t (obviously) as large as his, but I definitely have his feet. With those feet come the fact that my second toe is longer than all my other toes. It sticks out past my big toe, and seems to have become a moving target as of late.
Yesterday, in all of the excitement of being released from almost all medical supervision – I sort of accidentally crushed my toe. It’s that great old second toe, on my right foot. I have it all taped to the puny third toe, and it throbs and is a very lovely shade of purple.
I remember looking at those toes when I was growing up and my Dad saying, “Don’t worry, it’s a sign of intelligence.” Hmmmm. When I told him about breaking that darn toe (again, let’s not forget it’s a moving target), he said that started happening to him as well – after he left his 20s behind. Huh – so now it’s a sign of intelligent AGING?! Great. That’s what I want to have hanging around at the end of each foot.
Hope you had a giggle at my painful expense. 🙂