Wednesday, January 30, 2008


First, a little genetics. Among her many graces, my mother has lovely feet. She also had the good sense to give those beautiful feet to her two equally beautiful children. My mother, my sister and I all have a very elegant second toe (second most proximal - next to the "Big Toe"). It protrudes tastefully past the Big Toe, making it the longest of our phalanges. It is the foot of aristocracy. My father, on the other hand, has what the ladies and I refer to - rather euphemistically - as the "chopped toe." His Big Toe is the longest, followed by each successively distal digit, giving the overall foot a frankly disgusting linear slope.
Shortly after retiring to my mid-West abode for Winter recess, I made my N-th "Glorious Return to the Gym!" The season being what it was, and the gym being where it is, I thought it best not to assume my daily run to the gym - rather to use the vulgar hamster-wheels there provided. The physics of running a treadmill differ subtly from the those of Actual Running. While I (still) do not fully understand these differences in their entirety, I became aware of their existence when I noted the development of a blister on my right foot, on my second toe - my longest toe. Confident in my body's competence in these matters, I left the vile thing be. It proceeded to grow, enveloping more and more of the end of my toe, until it had nearly commandeered the whole of the tip and was visibly running under the nail. My beautiful second toe grew longer still as the purulent bulb swelled by the day. It was not especially painful or bothersome and I continued to treadmill throughout the outbreak. It was just about deserving of a name when, yesterday, I took off my sock to discover that the abscess was now a withered and deflated husk of white, dead skin. It would seem the blister burst sometime during my day, filling my shoe with a rush of pus. Oh well.