the toes know... s?

My first ballet-related toe injury, my ring toenail (is there a ring finger equivalent on your foot?) tore up my middle toe during class tonight. And thus a lesson was learned about cutting your nails before class.
At least it was an honest ballet injury. A badge of honor if you will. At least I can clutch my proverbial fist dramatically to my bosom while sighing about sacrificing myself for my art. Which is more than I can say about my badly bruised and formerly bleeding big toenail on the same foot. 'Oh no. That one was accomplished via the most physically graceful moment of my life.
I... stubbed it. On the floor. While I was sitting down.

Sigh...

Proceed only if you want to see the gruesome evidence (and you promise not to judge how callusy my toes are) I'm also not entirely sure if my baby toenail is bruised or what the heck is going on there. Edited to add: after seeing this entry pop up in the blog aggregate site I use, I noticed that it doesn't protect the innocent from the picture of my yucky toes. So I added a photo of my cat's tummy in an attempt to rectify the situation.