On Monday, in a moment of more-haste-less-speed, I found myself skirting around a narrow room, betwixt edges of bed and impressive wardrobe. Naturally, I stumbled awkwardly, resulting in an impact between my foot and the aforementioned wardrobe.
I clenched fists and jaw in pain. I swore (lightly, infrequently). I hobbled manfully downstairs and told everyone how horrible it was.
I did not - I repeat not - remove my sock and look at the injury. Because as everyone knows, it's better to discover a missing toe after a supportive nip of something alcoholic. As nothing was to hand, I didn't want to risk it.
Today, though, I did peek at my foot, and this is what I discovered.
Warning: the following pictures are of my feet. You have been warned.
Why on earth you would want to see them is anyone's guess.
Anyhoo, here they are in all their glory. Firstly from above; the toe is swollen and lightly coloured with bruising.
Nice hairs, eh?
The second picture shows the underside of the toe; you can clearly see the bruising here. Ouch!
Perhaps I should mention that I do have the full complement of toes (on both feet, no less) but I'm a very shy chap, and only share them with my very bestest of friends.
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