Buying the Perfect Shoes

It is so hard to find a great pair of shoes. You just never know how they actually fit. They aren’t fools. They know that all they have to do is adapt to the unique curves of your feet long enough to convince you that you can’t live without them. It’s so sad girls. They see us coming. They see us coming and start looking all sexy. They temporarily contort themselves to fit our weird feet like a glove. Then, once money has exchanged hands and you’ve welcomed them into your home, they change. All of a sudden you notice that they have weird lumps and rough spots and with each step your feet throb and grow a blister the size of a water balloon. Oh the frustration. You limp home screaming, “Why oh why?! How did you fool me? You lied to my face and left me here to lick my wounds. Well I won’t tolerate it, no I won’t! You will spend the rest of your days in the back of my closet. Your days are done. Yes, that’s right. Next to my bridesmaid shoes and yard work tennis shoes. What? It smells back there? It’s dusty? Well get used to it. That’s your new home! (Okay see you in four months when I’ve forgotten this pain and develop a new love for your beautiful curves.)”

 

I don’t think this behavior is exclusive to shoes. Think about it. This is precisely why your avocados feel perfect in the store but are hard as rocks later that night when you need them for dinner. It’s also why puppies are so cute and fluffy and lick your nose but then come home and crap on your floor and shed 365 days a year. But we don’t accept this. We try to outsmart these devious goods. “Oh, just throw some salt and pepper on those avocados, they taste just fine. Actually I prefer these hard avocados… Yumm..” We try to talk ourselves into it. Like when the paint swatches look fine in the store and then you bring the paint home and now your hallway looks like a little girl’s nursery… It’s no big deal, I sort of like this. It’s a nice color, really. I think it could grow on me. I’m not opposed to a change, of course, but I think this color is just swell.

 

Now I’m a firm believer that every girl should own a pair of red shoes. I’m new to this belief though, so I had to go out and buy two pairs of red shoes… you know, to catch up! The first pair is pure perfection. I love them. I think that they’d even make overalls look sexy. The second pair I bought, well, I didn’t have a choice. I found the purse that I had to buy. You know how that is? I just didn’t have a choice. I saw it and knew I was going to buy it. But sitting next to it were some matching shoes. These shiny red flats… the reject sizes. All on sale. Since I wear a monstrous size 10, I can often find reject shoes. And sure enough, there they were. I tried them on. They were light, breathable, and oh-so-cute with the purse I was holding. It honestly didn’t take much deliberation. I bought them.

 

Of course their mission was to trick me into buying them so that they could ruin my life.

 

Last week I wanted to wear these shoes with some jeans. After just 2 steps I knew I was going to have a problem. I slapped a bandaid on each heel and told those shoes that they weren’t going to win this battle. I walked to the other side of the house. I realized my steps weren’t normal. There was something inhuman about them. I was trying to step without actually stepping. Ladies, I’m sure you can relate. It somehow reminds me of a horse trying to walk down a sidewalk without stepping on the cracks. The bandaids had slipped (already!) and there were red marks on my heels. I rushed back to my room to arm myself further. Two more bandaids, this time, the fancy cloths ones. Hmm, what else? I ran to my dresser. I was bound to have an old pair of knee length hose from my banking days. Sure enough! I slipped them on. Ahhh! That’s what I’m talking about. They were so cute! And just like that, all of the pain went away!

 

I guess it’s not that hard to find perfect shoes. Just make sure you have the perfect bandaids to go along with them!

 

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**Also, I’m going to the Rice / A&M game tonight… which means I won’t be able to watch Biggest Loser. DON’T spoil it for me. No texts or comments or emails PLEASE! I’ll watch it tomorrow night and post about it on Thursday. (SPOILER ALERT: The Losers were in my Good Housekeeping magazine this month… Ron’s beard is gone. WHOO HOO! I’m sure that’s what you’ll see tonight during the makeovers.)