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My own stomach still flip-flops at the thought of it, even though as far as I can recollect that particular strategy was never used on me. It is a good thing too, for I would have hidden in a bear infested forest rather than meet such a fate. Heck, I still might.
As a child it seems that many families made reference to the dreaded “Grandma’s bunions”. I would shiver at the mere mention of them.
Besides being terrifying, in my mind it was also highly indecent to throw Grandma’s ample buns into any conversation. I was probably out of high school before I found out it was an affliction of the foot rather than the rump, for I always made a hasty retreat from the room when the subject came up.
A recent attack of the morbids came over me and I decided to do a little research on bunions. Don’t ask me why, for I have no sensible excuse.
I got on the handy dandy Internet and was floored to see that there were over 36,000 references to bunion. Surely it was a mistake.
No it’s not, and don’t call me Shirley,” my computer replied in a stern voice.
After panning down through the various bunionesque categories I discovered why there were so many hits on such a nondescript word.
Over half of the women in America suffer from bunions.
Maybe you did not hear me.
FIFTY PERCENT OF ALL AMERICAN FEMALES HAVE BUNIONS!
I am not making that up, though maybe the doctor who made the statement is. Most likely not, for I doubt if malpractice insurance covers telling a big windy in a medical website.
Apparently women quite often want to stuff their size 8 feet into size 6 shoes, thereby creating the perfect breeding ground for the development of a bunion.
Before going any further I should pass along Mr. Webster’s definition of a bunion. “ An inflammation and swelling of the bursa at the base of the big toe.”
I was also absolutely delighted to find out that bunionette is a real word, though I found it in another website and not in my dictionary. It is like a baby bunion, but it makes its home in the little toe. I can hardly wait for the opportunity to use it in casual conversation.
“Pardon me madam, but it appears you have a bunionette.”
Smack!
“You make another remark about my buns buster and I will plant my foot in your bunionette!”
Yes, educating the world about bunions may be a tough process.
Carbuncles, on the other hand, would be pretty easy to spread the word about. While it may roll musically off the tongue, anyone in his right mind knows that a carbuncle can only be one thing. And that thing is red, swollen, in danger of bursting, and so hideously ugly its own mother could not look at it.
Not that they have a mother, but if they did her name would be Mama Boils, for a carbuncle is just a melodious boil.
I am sad to report that there is no such thing as a carbunclette.
I guess if someone wanted to they could call a small carbuncle Baby Boil, but it does not seem wise to get on a first name basis with a physical ailment.
Before you knew it you might be naming your hemorrhoid Hank.