Cut Off the Toe Despite the Foot

  I’m convinced that I’m going to lose a toe. Probably soon. It’s not that big a deal, really; I’m already over it. Whenever my feet get cold (which is frequently) I lose feeling in the middle toe on my right foot. And feeling doesn’t return until long after the rest of my toes have warmed up. Once, taking my socks off, I noticed that just my toe had lost all color, while the rest of my toes and foot were a healthy, fleshy hue. But such is life, right?
  Since I’ve moved on, I’ve already begun to look at the positives of losing a toe. Sure, it’s easy to point out the negatives: It’d be weird to wear sandals (but I don’t anyway); playing “footsie” could be a bit awkward; and I can never be a feet model. I still have one handsome foot. Ok, that’s a lie. Our soccer goalie in high school referred to me and a teammate as Frodo and Bilbo. From the Lord of the Rings. We both had hairy feet. Anyway.
  One of the positives is that I always have a good conversation starter. I think everything sounds better with “since I lost my toe” included. For example: “Since I lost my toe, I’ve found that I’m limping a bit more on my right side.” Or: “I think the treasury’s plan to bail out the same bankers who got us in this mess is outrageous. And that’s not just since I lost my toe.” Of course, I’ll need to come up with a better story when people ask how I lost my toe. It can’t be as simple as losing all feeling in it. I think there should be a hawk involved. But how?
  Losing a toe seems like it’ll be a momentous time in my life, right up there with the day I get married and the day I lose my virginity (hopefully!). I’ve decided to think of things in terms of whether they happened “before toe” (BT) or “after digit loss” (ADL). So while my birth took place in BT, my own children’s birth will most assuredly take place in the ADL era.
  It’s not as if I’m losing an important digit. Missing a finger or a big toe would create much more of imposition in my life. But the middle toe is sort of like the appendix; you don’t really need it and when it’s gone you end up with a neat scar. I wonder if the rest of my toes will grow closer together, or if I’ll have a gap there forever. Think about how cool it’d be if I got good at dropping knives into the space in my foot. I bet my other toes would compensate and I’d end up with four really buff toes that mock those wimpy five digits on my left foot.
  There could be a lot of upside to me losing a toe. Maybe I should get a head start. And what if I was missing two toes?