Christ, I sound so shallow sometimes.
|My mom pointed out my toenail polish matches.|
Not wanting to look like a wuss, I shook it off, finished the class, went home, whined at my husband, and went about my day. Which included my grandfather’s 90th birthday, complete with pencil skirt, Fluevog boots and standing all evening catching up with relatives. As I finished the night and was walking from the car I was thinking how much my foot hurt, but figured it was just from standing and wearing tights or something equally lame.
Turns out my foot hurt because my whole big toe had turned purple and swollen to twice its normal size. After texting my mom photos of my toe and asking her if it was broken (she’s a nurse), and her responding that she can’t tell anything from 150 miles away (where she was spending the weekend with girlfriends), I decided that it was most definitely not broken, because broken toes means no heels. And there’s the added issue that I don’t really have any non-heels.
|How I kick it when my toe is busted.|
I spent Sunday in my Vince Camuto motorcycle boots (so comfy) and then this morning slipped the heels back on when I reached the office. Luckily, the day turned out OK and my toe is closer to a normal size and color, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t aggravate it. Which is good because tomorrow I have to go to New York on business, and I am not trying to get those motorcycle boots on and off in the security line at the airport. After those (which aren’t really flat), I only own one other pair of flat shoes, plus some gym shoes, and that’s just not going to happen.
I've also decided that I should buy myself a new pair of heels in New York so that when my foot feels better I have a little present for myself.