Toes

Let's chat about toes. Okay, we won't really chat because I'm the only one talking. And I'm not even talking anyway. So, why don't you read about toes and then comment if you feel the need to chat.

First, this has nothing to do with the Zac Brown Band song called "Toes." Although I will mention that while the radio version seems to find the singer with his "toes in the water, toes in the sand," the version on the CD Tucker got for Christmas has the singer's "toes in the water" and his (according to Tucker) "a-s-s word in the sand." Why on earth you'd want you a-s-s word in the sand is really beyond me (seems, well, gritty), and it makes the song quite inappropriate for seven year old fans.

No, friends,this post is about toes. Big toes to be exact. But in order to discuss toes we must first talk about feet in general.

Feet are gross.

I've always been one to go barefoot whenever possible. I never liked wearing shoes, and I vividly remember when I was kid my dad would tell people that he "had to put dirt in my shoes to get me to wear them."

While I don't remember dirt in my shoes, I do remember always being barefoot, stickers and gravel be damned. (That's two cuss words in one post, so I'll try to calm it down, Mom.) Even now, my students are used to me teaching without shoes on. Sometimes, when I need to run to the printer, I have to stop to find my shoes first.

Yes, I know that high schools aren't the most hygienic places on the planet, but they're my feet. I'm not collecting germs through them. They're gross by nature of being feet, so their nakedness in the bacteria filled floors of my high school just doesn't bother me. If I had to be honest, those floors are cleaned far more often and probably far better than the ones in my home. Barefootedness is one of my eccentricities, I suppose, and I readily accept it about myself.

Out of respect for others around me, I attempt to have the tops of my feet as attractive as possible. I keep the nails polished, and I regularly exfoliate. You're welcome, people of the high school.

But this post isn't about feet, it's about toes. Big toes.

About three days ago, my big toe started to hurt. It wasn't bad at first, but by Monday afternoon I was in terrible, gut-wrenching pain. I investigated further and diagnosed myself with an ingrown toenail.

Now, if feet are gross, then big toes are even grosser. This makes big toe toenails in the category of the most disgusting things on the planet. I'd put them right up there with slugs and cow boogers.

The situation was awful. Not only was I in pain, but I was in pain due to a disgusting big toe toe nail. I couldn't put on closed toe shoes without wanting to cry. I couldn't wear heeled open toe shoes because it added pressure to my injury. And I couldn't even go around whining about it because, well, because it's my disgusting big toe toe nail.

It was then I realized that this must be a silent epidemic! People all over the world are probably suffering in silence, ashamed of their toenail issues. Think of it! If you broke your leg, and you were on crutches, and someone asked what was wrong, you could shrug and say "broken leg," without one bit of shame. But with a toenail injury, a big toe toe nail injury, you're forced to walk the halls of your life pretending that everything is a-okay and trying not to limp because if someone asks you what's wrong you'll be forced to cower and say "ingrown toenail." Oh, the horror!

My situation is, of course, worse than all those other toe-sufferers because my school does not allow teachers to wear flip flops. Since my injury prevents me from wearing heels and/or closed toed shoes, what's left? What is there for a girl to wear to ease her suffering without flipping and flopping? Nothing. My feet had nothing left to live for.

So I made the bold decision to buck the system. Yesterday I wore legal, although painful, shoes, but stashed some flip flops under my desk. For tasks in my room, I wore the flops, but I made sure to wear the dressier shoes in the hallway and downstairs to the office. I felt like such a rebel.

At some point I poked my head out of my classroom door, scanned for authority figures, and then ran to the bathroom while flipping and flopping. In my haste, I left my keys sitting on my desk and locked myself out of my classroom, so I had to flop down the hall until I found another teacher who had a key to my room. The crisis was averted, and I was able to get back into my room and my legal shoes without having to go to the office to get busted for my renegade feet.

As I'm sure you can tell, my rule-breaking led to a very stressful day.

But today I wore flip flops again, with a little less anxiety this time because I decided not to be held captive by my big toe toe nail problem anymore. I am brave and strong, and I follow the rules, but I cannot, no, I WILL NOT, force myself into painful working conditions just to satisfy "the man." Further, I'm certain that anyone who hears my sad story and sees me in flip flops will have pity on me instead of scolding me about my footwear choices. Who knows? That person may just have a toenail problem himself, and my courage may be just the thing to free him from his prison of disgrace.

My name is Stormy Hickman, and I have an ingrown toenail, and I am not ashamed!

(tomorrow morning I do, however, have a department head meeting, so I'll be wearing legal shoes)