I suffer from bunions. But I really really really really really really despise that word. Loathe. Abhor. Eschew. (Thanks for that one thesaurus.com! Also, does anyone else imagine a dinosaur with a book for a head when they hear that word? No? Just me. Carry on.)
Let's be honest. The word bunion is one gross sounding word. But it's not my fault that my feet-bones hate me and my choice of shoes. Please don't judge me because I suffer from a gross sounding word.
I squirm every time I tell Jason, "My bunions are really hurting today." My bunions. MY bunions. Throwing a 'my' in front of that gross sounding word makes it seem as though it is venturing into a world of endearment and belonging. And that I will not stand for.
Which is why I've decided to rid myself of that gross sounding word all together, and henceforth, they shall be known as Paul. For obvious reasons.
This is the moment where I would draw poetic similarities between the giant, axe-wielding, Babe the Blue Ox for a sidekick Paul Bunyan and the painful, icky feet-bone bunion. But really, there are none.

Though I would venture to guess that with all that walking, and axe dragging, Mr. Bunyan had some pretty big bunions of his own. I know how you feel man, I know how you feel.

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