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My mother's been down a toe since 1969. She rode a bike barefoot while out playing, lost control, and the spokes of the front wheel lopped off the pinky toe on her right foot. Her dad offered a $5 bounty to all the local kids to recover it from the nearby bushes but they found it a full day later, far too late to reattach it. As a kid it was all the visual I needed to persuade me to wear shoes outside with the exception of standing around on manicured suburban lawns. Now I see it as an evolutionary tradeoff where weird foot callouses at age 40 are totally worth not dying of sepsis at age 4.
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# ¿ Feb 4, 2015 14:38 |
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# ¿ May 16, 2024 01:39 |