Okay, anybody who has just eaten or is about to eat, back away from your computer right now. Don’t look left. Don’t look right. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
Now for those less squeamish, let’s talk toes. Yep, those ugly little piggies belong to yours truly. Normally, I try to shield you, dear reader, from the uglier aspects of my life. You can place the blame for this squarely on the shoulders of Lisa Alzo of The Accidental Genealogist or Jasia over at Creative Gene , or for that matter, the blame can be placed on my dad whose toes I've inherited.
Lisa suggested the topic for this edition of the Carnival of Genealogy. “What traits run in your family? Which of them did you inherit? “And Jasia was all like, well sure, that sounds good.
So let’s just take a little peek at my toes. (Haven’t been able to take your eyes off them, have you?)
If you look closely, you can see that the second toe is longer than the big toe. My father’s toes have the same arrangement. When I was little, he said a longer second toe was a sign of intelligence. I believed him. In fact, in times when I have doubted all of my abilities, I’ve clung to the thought that at least I had the intelligence thing going for me. After all, I had that longer second toe to prove it.
Turns out Dad fibbed. While this is one of the myths surrounding a lanky second toe, the toe itself is actually a deformity. That’s right I have a DEFORMED TOE. It even has a name, Morton’s Toe. There’s also a website, http://www.foot.com/info/cond_mortons_toe.jsp, which talks about the definition of Morton’s Toe, what problems it causes, and the treatment of said toe.
I was happy to know that there are no sharp objects like surgical knives involved in treatment.
The website suggests that those suffering from the affliction wear “footwear with a high and wide toe box” and notes that often, wearing a shoe a half size larger will “accommodate the longer second toe.” Hah! No wonder my shoe size was always bigger than my friends. It also explains why I preferred cutting my bare feet on sharp stones to putting on shoes as a child.
Without the Carnival of Genealogy, I would never have explored this aspect of my being. I now know that I am deformed and probably as dumb as a box of rocks. Thanks COG, thanks a lot.
Until Next Time …
© 14 April 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder
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