Because ongoing information regarding my footwear is intriguing no matter who you are, I am compelled to update you on my new shoes.
You know the ones. The ones that only recently replaced Leftie and Stompie.
Ah. Leftie and Stompie. Now those were good shoes: up-and-coming shoes, forthright shoes, the kind of shoes that would trot you down a city street just as fast as you cared to go. Those shoes not only knew when to keep their mouths shut but had excellent credit scores and a good head for baseball stats.
Those shoes once saved a drowning child.
But the new ones? They’ve been bitterly disappointing.
The Traitors, as I’ve come to think of them, were comfy in the store. Lovely suede loafers. Best of all, they were an incredible 70% off the retail price.
Seventy percent off!
Who amongst us can resist a $14 pair of shoes?
I put them on, trod the carpeted aisles of the DSW. I pretended to run for the bus, held up an arm and yelled “Wait! Wait!” I pretended to sidestep a wad of gum on the street. I went one way, imagined I had forgotten something and quickly went the other way. I did a quick Charleston.
So far, so good.
But really, with shoes? How can you know?
You can’t; and The Traitors revealed themselves to be untrustworthy, blister-causing turncoats on their first wearing.
Oh, sure, they were my friends in the store, weren’t they? “Buy me! I go with everything! I’m 70% off!”
Foolish mortal.
They bit me, those shoes, again and again. Within blocks of my house, I was in trouble. By the time I had reached the bus stop, my heels were in tears. Why had I forsaken them?
The blisters formed. The left one tore open. Unflattering opinions were shouted, blame firmly placed on my skinflint shoulders. My feet declared me to be a menace to working soles everywhere and plans were drawn up by the left one to leave the lower legs and strike out on their own.
So I’ve done what any normal person would do. I’ve dug Leftie and Stompie out of the garbage can (where they sat, patiently, in the box of the new ones).
They’ve been reinstated.
The Traitors have been contained in their original box and isolated, left to think about what they’ve done. They’ll be going back to the store from whence they came.
And that brings us up-to-date regarding my footwear. Tune in again tomorrow when I relate a story about a jacket button that needs replacing.
*sigh*
I got a million of ‘em.
About Bob Dylan
5 days ago
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21 comments:
Argh, I bought new cross trainers and they bit me too. But they didn't start to bite till I was 5 k into their inaugural run, then I had to go 5 k to get back. My blisters are nearly as big as my feet!
So now what, I have to wear UGGs till my feet heal? Ugh.
Shoes? What are shoes? I mean, other than for playing golf, that is. Now, sandals... to those I can relate (note proper grammar). One pair of high quality synthetic something-or-other, another pair are thong types that irritate the space between the Big Toe and its nearest neighbor. And that makes me wonder why anyone would want to wear thong panties. Not that I have, mind you.
Sorry, rambling again... must be past time for my meds.
powdergirl, ooh, that's bad. The only running I do these days is when I'm late for the bus, but I ran CC in high school and can relate!
Douglas, remember when flip-flops were called thongs? I do. Everyone thinks that's funny now as thongs are automatically considered to be minimalist underwear now. And speaking of those underwear, I just can't. Wear them.
Hmm. Must be time for my meds, too. Since when do I talk about underwear?
You gotta break in new shoes the way you break a horse--slowly and patiently, as I have learned. Build up that callous with 30 minutes a day in the newbies. Bandaids when necessary. But it's definitely so much better to find perfectly fitting shoes. Once the new ones are broken in and look stretched out, it's hard to ever get rid of them.
Pat, slowly? Patiently? You've just named my two "short suits". :-)
Stick to Doc Martins or desert combat boot's deary, that's what I do.
As for thongs ... where I used to live they were stringy knickers that cut yer bum in half.
Isn't wonderful how we use the English language?
I daydream of a shopping spree through DSW.
I never came out of that place with less than 2 boxes .. summer shoes were the easiest.
But ... I still have a pair of unworn .. are you ready? lime green polka dot slip on little platforms.. I was living in Florida that year, I was sun struck, heat demented and thought that a bright color would work.
They are now living here with me in Buenos Aires where I still .. only wear Black.
Thanks for the inspiration. I was all set to blog about getting fat(ter) and the bloat of PMS. Shoe love is better.
That sucks. I've had the same thing happen though. I fall for the discounted shoes, and I end of paying full price! :(
I'm not sure if it has something to do with my mom's constant nagging advice, but somehow I instinctively see the sign as 70% off equals buy one size bigger/smaller. How strange is that? I think my mom always thought the 'big sales' meant the merchandise was irregular.
She was an odd woman.
Welcome back to Leftie and Stompie!
=]
I always buy stupid shoes at DSW that I never wear. I try to follow Oprah's rule: Don't buy it unless you absolutely love it.
Sale or no sale.
Stupid sales.
Find another uncomfortable pair, throw them away and wear the two boxes
I'ts no consolation I know, but we all have bought a pair of traitor shoes (or in my recent case, a pair of traitor walking boots.) Mine were not in the sale either. Sigh.
What wonderful whimsy. Pearl, you are priceless.
I bought some traitor running shoes. Nice as pie in the shop, where their minion, the salesgirl told me how they made my gait nearly perfect. Once home, they were patient, oh yes. Then one day - wham! Twin blisters IN MY ARCHES! Mind you, now that they've said their piece and showed who's boos, we get along just fine. I've found that shoes that start out the most badly-behaved end up the best friends (apart from some psycho Nikes I once had - they were serial biters).
Damn those traitor shoes, it's because they're suede - never trust suede shoes. I think we've all been victim to the superior cunning of two-faced footwear, reminds of that Shakespeare line - "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"
Thankfully, there's always our abandoned pair, Leftie and Stompie in your case, willing to help us out - even though we so quickly forgot they existed. Thank goodness for them! :D
I love your magical mind and world!
Aloha from Honolulu :)
Comfort Spiral
Shoes that touch the heel? Barbaric.
Ah the foot. It can be a cruel bitch mistress. I don't understand the relationship between women and their shoes very well. I have four pairs for the four seasons with overlap allowed. And don't dare me to wear runners with a tuxedo because I WILL do that.
Only you, Pearl, can so eloquently (and hilariously) explain the woe that is poorly-fitting shoes! I say this as I remove the bandaids that covered all my toes today in hopes of saving them from my shoes. But....they are such cute shoes that I can't bear the thought of banishing them.
Oh...this has happened to me SO MANY TIMES> Just ask Goodwill....they have parties in my honor.
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