Important Facts Toe Know

Did you know that our big toes carry about half of our body weight when we walk and run? Did you know that standing is difficult with an injured big toe?

I didn’t know either. In fact I never gave big toes any thought; barely noticed them in fact, until The Night of the Toe two weeks ago.

It was at the office Christmas party; I was walking away from the bar with a drink in my hand when I bumped into someone who was on his way there. By the way, that ‘someone’ plays rugby i.e. is built like an ox and is trained to tackle similarly built men to the ground.

“Oops” he said, when his large booted foot made contact with my exposed right foot in its red high-heeled slipper. “Sorry”

“No probs” I smiled and continued on my way, realizing a few seconds later that my right slipper felt a bit wet - did I spill a bit of my drink on my foot? - I wondered.….then my right foot felt warm. I suddenly found I couldn’t stand on it so I limped over to a seat in the corner with this awful pain shooting up my leg, wondering what the hell was going on.

When I checked in the dim light I found out that the guy in boots had accidentally ripped my toenail off. The toenail was clean off the nail bed and hung to one side like it was undecided (should I stay or should I go?) It was bright red with blood and nail polish and hurt like hell. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh. Has that happened to you before, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time?? Weird.

I asked for a brandy which I drained. It numbed the pain but I ended up plastered and had a couple of ‘unrestrained’ conversations with some higher ups including the guy who’d shattered my poor toe nail and just happened to be my boss’s boss’s boss (i.e. my great-grand boss)

I hunted him down on the dance floor and slurred “you fucking stepped on my fucking toe you fucking kiwi” but he was a good sport, probably because he was in a party mood and had had a couple of drinks himself. He apologized again. I smiled and we posed for photos.

I danced a bit (the DJ was fantastic!) then found another big cahuna to insult.

“I think people who read Kafka are fucking pretentious” I yelled above the loud music to someone I really shouldn’t have been talking to in that state, “who the hell is Kafka anyways? Big deal”

This person is my great-great-grand boss and apparently likes to read Kafka. Ooh boy.

Did you know that when you’re drunk at the office party you’re more likely to insult a superior than a subordinate? I didn’t know either until The Night of the Toe.

The night went by quickly; I danced til 3am after a colleague dressed my toe with stuff from the first aid box in his car. I was deliciously drunk, felt no pain and like I said the music was great.

At about 5am the pain returned. *aargh!*

I called my doctor, grunted out my story then counted the minutes until the 10 am appointment he gave me.

The toenail was hanging by a string of skin and I wanted it taken out completely but the doctor said no, let it fall off itself.

I disagreed because I felt that with the nail off I could enjoy a fresh start, a new nail and a new life, a clean slate, a shot at a new beginning…none of this poetic justification worked with the doctor and all I got were tetanus shots, a new dressing and a pile of antibiotics.

That weekend I slept with my right foot hanging over the side of the bed.

The following week I limped and shuffled around home and work in flat slippers - no heels! I went from being 5ft 7 to 5ft 4.5 overnight.

My ever helpful sis even offered me coloured plasters to match my outfits, but I turned them down in favour of the traditional neutral colour. I may have been injured but there was no need to be garish about it.

After seven days my toe was healing nicely, after an initial stage that was extremely disgusting and required frequent bandage changes. The nail reunited with the nail bed (they worked things out in private) it looked like all was well and I started walking around at home without a dressing on the toe.

Then I stubbed my toe against my bedroom door *aargh!*

And twice on the UPS under my desk at work *aargh!* who put that effing thing under my desk?

Then against the kitchen cabinet *aargh!* and in the car *oh my God!*

Did you know that when you have an injured toe, hard objects will deliberately place themselves in your way? Did you know that if that doesn’t work these hard objects (e.g. doors) will go as far as to ‘bump’ into your poor bandaged toe then sit there looking innocent? I didn’t know either, until…

All these minor accidents happened so many times that they interrupted the healing process and my toe looked damaged. I sighed and went back to bandaging it up.

Then…unbelievably, at another party three nights ago I stubbed my toe AGAIN, this time against a slab of concrete and almost passed out from shock:

'zahrahowcarelesscanyoubeyouaresoclumsyyou’regoingtoendupwithoutafootatthisrate'I thought in a rush.

Now two weeks later the poor toe looks mangled and far worse than on the night of the accident. I give up and now realise that as I am no longer perfect (heh heh) I cannot in all fairness demand perfection from a potential partner, therefore I am revising my personal ad to read:

Single young female, fun, flirty, playful, seeks man with similar qualities, big toes optional…

PS: I am not placing a personal ad, so any interested nine-toed men out there please note that it was a joke!