The Wonderful World of Toes

Toes or Phalanges (Write that down.  See, you learn as well as enjoy!) as they’re correctly named in the medical world, are essential for balance.  Without the big toe, standing, let alone walking, is a mission and a lot of physical therapy is needed to sort it out, which my step mother, god rest her soul, had to find out the hard way.  Right, so if they do so much, how can these little pinkies make you angry?  I’ll answer that question with a question, have you ever stubbed one? I rest my case. How much does it hurt when you stub your toe please? A fucking ton. It’s fucking agony and if you’ve never done it, then you’re in the minority let me tell you, and you should be extremely happy that you haven’t.

 

What angers me is that after you whack your toe, normally the big or pinky toe against something, it’s such an irritating pain that I end up blaming the actual toes themselves for being so stupid and clumsy as not to have seen whatever they kicked in the first place.  Furniture clearly has a vendetta against your toes and in the war against them, furniture is winning. It always seems to hit a door or the end of table or bed as if your little toe was too busy “going all the way home” to meet his buddies, than to notice an akward angled thing coming at them at pace.  They should change that kids rhyme so they know what to expect when they’re older. 

 

This little piggy’s going to hit a door, this little piggy goes blue, this little piggy gets broken, this piggy narrowly misses the corner of the skirting board, and this little piggy goes wee, wee, wee before being amputated.  

That’s the other thing, when you do really hit the toe or toes hard and they bruise up real nice like an old apple, and you definitely think one or all are broken, there’s fuck all you can do because the little mini sausage bastards can’t even be splinted together, so you just have to endure the pain and hope they don’t heal in a 90 degree fashion.  I have a friend who swears blind she has broken every single one of her toe.  Which unless you are keeping an up to date diary of each event, is surely impossible, as the lucky bastard middle toes never seem to get hit.  They are the intelligent pigs who stay out of the firing range leaving the little one to take the brunt of every wooden attack.

How come when we evolved (yes religion, in your face), we didn’t keep the tree climbing handlike feet like our simian friends.  Nope, we reverted to useless, clumsy, blind pigs without blankets.  Mind you, I feel sorry for them too because it always seems to be them who fall foul to frost bite first, poor little blighters. And they are instrumental in toe curling activities, some of which have been on the orgasmic side, which is very cool.  But just when I start to big them up, a further issue with toes rears it’s ugly head in the form of a fungus hiding between them in the dark, moist ravines. We all know it by it's very strange name of Athlete’s foot.

You'd think by the name that only athlete's get them but oh no, be warned, any unfit fuck can get this little gem. I don’t know if this horrible fungus is good or bad. Are you joking? I hear you ask.  Yes, I know, it’s a fucking horrible fungus and most people have had it at some point in their life, and sometimes it’s a pain to shift.  Easy to pass on mind you, but a real fucking pain to shift.  The reason I say good as it feels so damn good to scratch that bugger. Doesn’t it? Come on, if you’ve had it, you know it does.  But because it feels so good, you keep doing it and end up scratching the skin right off which is not good, not at all.  Especially now they’ve found you can get athletes foot on your hand. Why they haven’t called it athletes hand is beyond me as I thought that would be the obvious next step.  

If you’ve never had it, it’s a fungus that normally grows in between your toes and thrives on warm moist areas.  Like the fungus, I like warm moist areas but between the toes is just weird in my tastes. (come on, let’s keep it light you dirty bastard)  It’s also a resilient son of a bitch and if you have it, washing your feet twice day, changing your socks and using the best cream on the market for like a month will be your routine and don’t falter on it, as it will come back with a vengeance.  The worst thing about this fucking thing is that it’s so easily caught, mainly in communal showers and changing rooms but even in your own home if you share showers with someone, not together obviously, unless there’s a hose pipe ban of course. 

So next time you have a one night stand, don’t JUST think about STD’s.  If you let her/him use your shower in the morning, you might end up with another problem downstairs, way downstairs.  I remember in school when we used to have swimming pool outings, parents would make their kids wear a waterproof sock if they had athletes foot or a verruca, but all that did was ex communicate them from the group and be harshly quarantined in your own section of the pool.  I tell you what, if that had have happened to me, I would have taken the sock off and pimp slapped them with it.  Luckily I wasn’t stupid enough to wear one…..because I didn’t need it, just to make that clear, I wasn’t out to contaminate the whole place for my own personal agenda. 

And lastly, I can’t believe that nobody’s come up with a scratching device that you could sell along with the foot cream just in case you have a really nasty itch, whilst you’re going through the healing phase.  Up there for thinking, down there for dancing my son.  Maybe I should go onto The Apprentice next season and pitch it to Lord Sugar.  I've even got a tag line "When you've got a bitch of an itch, Enjoy a heavenly scratch, before you eradicate that stubborn beeeatch!" Athlete's Magic Finger, at shops near you soon!