When I was about eight, I pointed to the second toe on my right foot and asked: “Why is this toe so much longer than my “big” toe?’
“That toe’s longer because you have royal blood,” my Mom said. “It’s called a Royal Toe.”
Wow! I’d hit the jack pot. Having a royal toe topped the whole kit and caboodle of childhood treasures: my collection of Bugs Bunny comics, my Tom Mix secret decoder ring and my box of mica and my striped rocks.
Over the years I didn’t think too much about the Royal Toe, though I savored the notion of my royal heritage when my friends Gail and Jane wouldn’t play with me.
When Bill and I first started dating, the subject of dental cavities came up. Being a survivor of many dental horrors—I averaged three or four new cavities every six months until I ran out of teeth—I was flummoxed when Bill said he’ had only three cavities in his whole life.
“Braggart,” I thought.
Then I one-upped him.
“Well, I have a Royal Toe,” I said.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, it’s true.”
I didn’t volunteer to show him the toe, that day. The truth was that the top of that toe flared out like an exotic mushroom cap. And besides, I hadn’t changed my socks in a while.
So far our marriage has survived the exotic contours of the Royal Toe, but Bill never quite bought into the noble heritage story.
Over the past few months, the toe has become bothersome so I did a little sleuthing on the net and found some interesting facts about Royal Toes. Technically this toe abnormality is called Morton’s Toe, but I think Royal Toe has a better flair to it.
Stay tuned for the next breath taking, astonishing episode of the toe saga.
In the mean time, I want to hear from those of you who were born with a long second toe—or a Royal Toe.
How has it affected your life? Do you wear your Royal Toe proudly? Are you in therapy because of your toe?