If Only Mah Heart Could Be Fixt as Easily as Mah Toe

The title to this entry sounds like a country song, don't it?

So you know how some people are afraid of oh, I don't know, turning into their mothers? Well I have a fear of becoming a hypochondriac. Not sure why I have this particular affliction, but I do. Therefore, I'm a fan of walking things off, toughing it out, and just generally waiting until things are ten times worse than they should be. This is why my first year of law school I waited to go to the doctor until I was so sick with the flu that I had a 103 degree fever. Or in this case, I waited until my toe was a painful bleeding mess before going to the podiatrist.

God Bless podiatrists - they are my new golden calf. I am a new woman! I am reborn! My ingrown toenail has been repaired! I shall now be able to go back to wearing hooker-like stilettos to my heart's content. Ok, well not really, because I'm terribly klutzy and I find that after oh... 4 and 1/2 minutes my feet begin to hurt unbearably in said hooker-like stilettos. But I do like wearing moderately tall heels. Since I'm already 5'9", there's nothing like a bit of heel to make me even more imposing - especially since D.C. is the anti-attractive footwear capital of the United States.

But to those of you who advocate practical and unattractive footwear, I bet you're thinking it's my shoe choice that got me into this mess in the first place. Well you are wrong my friend. What caused my problem is the fact that I decided to take up running. I had a sore spot on my toe which became a full on monstrosity due to pounding the pavement.

For those of you who know me in the real world, I'm sure your mouths have dropped to learn I've taken up running. For my virtual friends those reasons would be because I'm:

1) lazy
2) asthmatic
3) lazy
4) have a large rack

As to numbers 1 and 3, since I'm employed only sporadically at this point, I have to do something to pass the time - there's only so much daytime TV a person can watch. As to 2, I do a lot of walking and I use my inhaler; number 4 necessitates the wearing of two bras. I can assure you however the gentlemen of the neighborhood are delighted to see that I've taken up running.

Of course I haven't been running of late because I haven't really been able to walk. So I finally broke down and called the doctor. And in a mere afternoon and after a large does of anesthetic, the doctor removed the offending toenail (thoroughly disgusting, but fascinating to watch none the less).

Hmm, perhaps I'm not so much a hypochondriac as your crazy Aunt Rose who insists on telling you about her gallbladder surgery.