Although this is a sad story with a horrific mummy toe in it, it isn't a ghost story. In fact, technically speaking, it is completely off topic, so I added a ghost to the picture below to make it more haunting. The story of mummy toe begins with my stupidity (so many of my stories start this way). When I was 9 months pregnant, I moved from Mobile, Alabama to Richmond, Virginia. We weren't that well off and we had to move the furniture ourselves. I tend to think of myself as quite buff and decided that even though I was nine months pregnant, I probably could carry a dresser up a flight of stairs on my own. I dropped the dresser, crushing my toe.
My toe was badly injured. It was broken in several places and there was a laceration under the toe nail. The toe nail had to be partially removed for stitches and I had to wear a terrible therapeutic shoe. I have a shoe fetish and this was very hard for me. It was a very ugly shoe. The bone healed, but the cut became infected as the nail grew back and required further work after my son was older. Sadly, my toe has never recovered. My son seemed to spring out of me talking and it wasn't long before he nick named my toe mummy toe. My husband and he came up song to go with my gauzy and terrifying toe. They used to sing it to me when I tried to put on sandals. I've spent many years now hiding my toe. I didn't want to terrify small children and strangers in a way that ghosts probably never could. I know even reading this story is probably going to give my readers bad dreams.
Today, however, mummy toe had a small triumph. I went to get my toes done and the pedicurist performed some kind of miracle involving paint and glitter. Somehow, she transformed mummy toe into something almost pretty. This is my celebratory blog. I can wear sandals! My feet may never be pretty, but at least I'm not scarring small children.
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