I broke my toe on Tuesday, two days after I got a stomach virus of some sort with a fever and severe cramps. I didn’t eat for a few days, which means that I really felt bad. I love food, all kinds. It’s one of the main reasons I married my second husband. He owns a restaurant. I knew that I would be well-fed for eternity. But enough about my stomach. This is about my little toe.
I didn’t go to the orthopedist but I know the toe is broken. I’ve broken one before. I figured that if I went to the orthopedist, they would x-ray the toe, tell me it’s broken, maybe give me an orthopedic shoe to wear and, depending on the doctor, give me some really awesome painkillers. But I have an orthopedic shoe, as well as crutches, from the last time I broke a toe, when I was jumping down the stairs. And we have tons of awesome painkillers leftover from my husband’s vasectomy last summer and from the Mohs Surgery on his nose to remove some skin cancer. And I figured I would save Blue Cross Blue Shield, and myself, some money. And in these tough economic times, that’s no small feat.
How did I break my toe? Vanity did it. I got my haircut last week by the woman who has been cutting my hair for 9 years. I’ve followed her from shop to shop as she has moved, each time getting a little more expensive. Back then, it cost me $12.00 to get a haircut cut. Now, it costs me $25.00. Not bad if you figure in inflation. I’m always asking her to recommend a hair care product that will allow me to let my hair dry naturally without ending up looking like a hairball. I’ve tried countless lotions, gels and creams, always thinking the next one will be “the one”. Most of these products end up in the cabinet underneath my sink because they just don’t work for me. So last week, when I got my hair cut, she offered to put mousse in my hair. Plain, old-fashioned mousse. And it worked. My hair looked normal without blowing it dry. A miracle.
I went to the grocery store on Monday and picked out a nice, heavy, metal bottle of mousse made by that Australian hair care company. It promised to do wonders. Tuesday morning, I was multi-tasking, of course, getting the kids ready for school, getting myself ready for work. I was attempting to take the bottle upstairs so I could try it out. But it slipped out of my hand. Bam, on my littlest left toe. It hurt like hell. I knew right away that it was broken. You just know. Woman’s intuition, perhaps. Sorry Doc (my friend who is a “real” doctor), I call it how I see it.
There’s nothing to do about the toe. It doesn’t hurt too much and it is turning a really pretty shade of purple and blue. And it took some of my mental attention away from my stomach flu, which is now finally gone. So, I’ll tape the toe to my other toe when I exercise and in a few months, I won’t even remember which foot the broken toe was on.
My biggest concern was that I hadn’t had a pedicure in 6 weeks and my feet looked awful, chipped polish and all. It was like getting in a car accident while wearing old, crummy underwear. So I went to get a pedicure the day after it happened. I know what’s important. And I’m not afraid to endure a little pain for beauty. Wait until I tell you about my bikini wax!