Toes Prose

So everyone wants to read about toes, huh? A toe post. Right. Okay. Um, I may have underestimated the difficulty of writing about such a minute part of the body. Although it’s interesting, is it not, how we barely notice our toes unless we happen to injure them in some way? I mean, have you ever been walking around your house in the dead of night, with all the lights off, and forgotten about that magical coffee table that can materialize out of thin air? Never mind the fact that it’s a little strange to be wandering around with all the lights off (is it that difficult to flip a switch?) – suddenly, that pesky table pops up in your path, and before you can say “open-toed sandals,” you have a bruise the size of a grapefruit. Which is quite impressive, seeing as most toes are no bigger than, uh, let’s say plain old grapes.

So in half a second, your perfectly normal grape-toes are covered with grape-colored bruises and feel as though someone has used their OWN toes to stomp on yours in a vat full of smushed soon-to-be-wine fruit. And what if one of those little grape-toes is broken? Well, since apparently it’s impossible to make tiny little grape-sized plaster casts, the best you can do is tie on one of those weird half-shoes and hobble around for a few weeks while it heals. And THAT is the point when you realize you do, in fact, have toes.

Up until that point, of course, toes are barely noticeable… almost forgettable. They’re not like fingers, which curl so effortlessly around pens and pencils and doorknobs and coat hangers. They’re hidden under socks and buried within shoes and forced to keep ranks with their foot neighbors when we go for jogs and stand in lines at the grocery store. And the only time I’m certain those toes must get excited is when we pull out a pair of flip-flops – ah ha! Finally! At last! The toes are given a purpose. With flip-flops, it is the TOES themselves that prevent the entire shoe from falling off and being abandoned on a sidewalk. It is the TOES that embrace the responsibility of protecting the entire foot. For a few hours, at least, the forgettable little grape toes are transformed into tiny little hard-working heroes.

I once saw a show on the Discovery channel about a man who’d lost a thumb in an accident, and they were able to surgically replace his thumb with his big toe. Now THAT must’ve been a happy toe. It must’ve felt privileged to move from its unremarkable position near the dust and dirt of the ground to an elevated location replete with brand-new grasping duties. A big toe that can hold a remote control... how unique. Then again, maybe it’s not so unique – I’m sure there are guys out there with perfectly functioning hands who’ve felt it necessary to change a TV channel with their toes. I mean, if you’re already settled on the couch, and the remote is juuuuuust out of reach… (I certainly wouldn’t KNOW any guys like that…)

Anyway, I can definitely say, without a doubt, that this is the most I’ve ever written about toes. Who knew they could inspire four paragraphs? I have a sudden urge to find the nearest nail salon and ask for a pedicure…