Nested five-gallon buckets separate—mid-air—serially bashing my second toe.
Mega blood blister.
Later, urgent Labrador claws, jigging at our front door,
meet my hapless, arthritic toe and,
accidentally, gouge open the blister.
Colors yet-to-be-named fresco my foot.
Weight bearing? Impossible.
26 foot bones, not one broken.
And now Toe #2 is 1/4 inch longer than before.
Nurse Tina, armed with gauze and surgical tape, groans aloud—more than once—and I love her for it.
She artfully buddy straps toes 2 and 3.
My newly-bound twosome throbs.
Pop Quiz: How does my foot resemble
- Venus de Milo?
- da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man?
- The Statue of Liberty?
Turns out I have Greek Feet, my second toes longer than my big toes. Greek Feet are the idealized foot shape found in ancient statuary, continuing up to our present-day Lady of Liberty. (Longer big toes? You have Egyptian Feet. Read more here.)
Reflexologists, or Foot Readers, claim overlong second toes indicate leadership qualities: resourcefulness, creativity, intelligence, confidence, enthusiasm, impulsiveness, and vulnerability to stress.
Snopes fodder? You decide.
“The second toe on your right foot shows what you want in life,” Foot Reader Jane Sheehan says. “If you are getting [what you want], the toe will be touching the floor.”
Flattened Toe #2 has never hugged more carpet. Am I getting what I want?
My sturdy middle toe has limits.
This reminds me of relationships. We bind ourselves to a loved one who’s hurting. We try to provide balance. Stability. We compensate, try to share the weight.
When do we loose the bonds, urge the injured part (or party) to step up again and fulfill its role?
Isn’t this what we ask ourselves?
Will Toe #2 return to its original shape? Will my shoes still fit? God knows.
Beyond Buddy Strapping
Meanwhile, I’m reading up on Venus de Milo:
She is what she is. And known for it.
How do we play a supporting role—without playing God?
Reflexologist Jane Sheehan will give a reading if you send her a photo of your feet. Visit www.footreading.com