If you were me you would understand my need for wide shoes. The wider the better, which of course makes high heels a pipe dream. Never will they find their way onto my wish list. It’s a harsh reality, but I have accepted Jimmy Choo and I will never date. Stilettos may have a certain bewitching appeal; transforming the calf muscle into a sex machine for some. This is a journey I and my eleventh toe will never walk. But we don’t mind.

Yes. You heard me right. I have eleven toes. Five on my right foot, six on my left. The sixth toe on my left foot sits up all high and mighty on top of my pinky toe with an air of authority. This is why I decided to give her an appropriate name. I call my eleventh toe Queen Elizabeth. There is no other toe quite like her. Not that I’ve seen. If she was in a line up, if pressed, I am aware one might describe her as a cross between the ring toe and the pinky toe, but that would be an unfair assessment. I’ve always considered any reference to a half breed to be derogatory, with good reason. I suspect you would agree. Queen Elizabeth is just one of a kind. Of life and limb, we were born into this world together and when we go out, a few bonus phalanges will go out with us.

Isn’t it true parents are known to count all the fingers and all the toes when they hold their newborns for the first time? What if my mother thought she had counted wrong on the day of my birth? I can’t imagine she was in the least bit concerned at the revelation because when I was growing up my mother never made me feel any kind of way about Queen Elizabeth. But there were repercussions. Kids can be cruel. When I got teased by the kids down at the lake, my mother would confront them claiming they were just jealous because only Kings and Queens were born with extra toes. If anyone tried to protest her explanation, she would stand up and stare them down with a predictable “off with their head” kind of vibe. Beyond fearing my mother, I suppose the novelty of my eleventh toe must have eventually worn off since if there were any lingering whispers in between splashes about me and Queen Elizabeth, shade only came from the Eastern white pines bordering the lake.

Years back, it was Aunt Francis, my father’s mother’s sister, who said at the Thanksgiving dinner table, “Why don’t you take her to a surgeon and cut that damn thing off already?” My mother disregarded the question as if Aunt Francis hadn’t uttered a word. Instead she politely asked not one but two change the subject questions, “Will you please pass the dinner rolls?” And. “Aunt Francis what are you grateful for this Thanksgiving?”

From across the table, I recognized the death stare lingering all over my mother’s face.

There would be an extra seat at the table the following year.

Perhaps Aunt Francis had not grasped that in our house we had always been and will always be an “embrace your God given gifts” kind of folk, and that way of thinking goes hand and hand with gratitude. So when Momma said to me, “What are you thankful for,” this past Thanksgiving, I replied,

“I am thankful for the designer genius of Orthofeet sneakers with stretchable uppers and extra wide toe box.”

Momma then winked at me and I winked back while wiggling my comfortable eleventh toe.

#FICTION

i relate

to the bones

in my neck

i hold up

a lot

but i'm

often

forgotten

i work

hard

but

i'm

nothing

special

i'm

powerful

but

outshined

by

more

extravagant

things

shoulder blade,

can be a support or a weapon,

helping you stand tall or cutting you down.

sometimes i try to help,

but i always end up being a blade

rather than a boon.

shoulder blade,

twisting when you roll your arms

listening to the delightful pop of

bone and muscle

crackling like cooking meat.

sometimes, i am a shoulder blade

struggling under all the pressure

all the voices telling me to stand tall

when it's all i can do to hold up my own weight.

I seem to have this one extra bone.

It's a bone that has been picked clean. It is picked at by everyone and anyone. It seems to find its way into everyone's craw, choking them until its very presence is dismissed suitably.

If it were a rib in Adam, the shrew would emerge already looking to, and ready to, pick at it--the recursive curse of ill-spawned progeny. The apple of Eden doesn't fall far from the Tree of Knowledge, and it comes riddled with osteoblasts.

Before any conversing, my contrary bone must be picked, because everyone I meet sees it and is compelled to pick at it. One day, it will be picked clean away, and I'll be able to enjoy unconditional camaraderie again. And Original Sin will be gone forever.

I would say my funny bone, however I was todays years old when I found out it's not actually a bone. It is a muscle on the inner side of your elbow named the ulner nerve. This is what I relate to: because I am strong enough to pick up and carry my cross yet I am the clumsiest person ever known.

Funny bone.

It's not really all that funny- to me anyway.

It certainly makes others laugh- just as I do.

Its the most awkward - just as I am.

It hurts if you bang it on something- just as I do- ha!

It's a bone you forget about until you are painfully reminded it is there!

You can't forget the feeling of your funny bone- just as you can't forget me.

Over-utilized, underappreciated, necessary, pliable, staunch, meteoropathic, pivotal, gritty, responsible, unperturbed

P.S. this is not real life. fun prompt!

The tailbone, considered vestigial, which means no longer necessary. Like wisdom teeth, they're pulled nowadays. I serve purposes and perform functions, I am not no longer necessary. Trying sitting without me, try relaxing comfortable without me, try distrubuting your weight without me, try to balance and try to be stable without me. I also can help you move, I help you walk, run and let's not forget, I can help you dance.

Have you ever hit a bump and landed on your butt or fallen behind, I am there for you, unless you'd rather land on your spine bottom. That sounds paralizingly awful.

Don't abuse me either. Take care of me. Use a pillow, cushioned and padded seats, don't stay on a bike or horse for too long, take breaks from sitting and walk around, stretch your body, don't lean on me so much. I can be a real pain in the butt.