I think a toe should count as a limb. Because when it's broken, it hurts. And turns funny colors. And then I could say I had broken a bone. Because a toe is a pitiful bone to break. So is a nose. And both my broken things stories are NOT glamorous.
I mean, it would be glamorous and a good story if I broke my nose while being the first female driver in the Indy 500 and having the tire of the first-place car fly through my windshield. That would be cool. But breaking it while playing dressup at the age of 16, trying a hat that was too small and getting schmucked on the head by my sister so that the hat lands on my nose and leaves a little bump, not so impressive.
And if I broke my toe running after an injured dog belonging to the queen and tripped over a lawn sprinkler, that would be a better story than running for the phone (which turned out to be a freakin telemarketer, by the way) and smashing my toe on the corner of the deck. Now it's purply-red and looks gay. And I went shopping today looking for a hot dress to wear to the wedding rehearsal (and the flow of weddings of friends this summer), and no matter how good it looked on me there was that toe sitting there looking at me. Hahaha. I even think I'm overreacting now, which is saying something.
Complete side note - my brother says that Le Chateau, the men's section, should be renamed the HomoHut. haha. I love that boy. I let him drive to Red Deer today and except for one minor incident where we almost merged right into a semitruck he did pretty good.
No comments:
Post a Comment