http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/02_03/003shoesDM_468x320.jpgI hate shopping for shoes.
It's an ordeal. It's boring. I'm always wearing work clothes when I shop for them which means I spend half the time trying to bridge the gap between my legs and my skirt (hello, otherwise I'll flash the entire planet). I feel awkward, hot and pressured by the sales girls who watch me while I ask accompanying friends/sibling for their opinion and squint uncomfortably at the pint sized mirror leaning against the wall.
Shoe fetish? Yeah right.
Today as I left work to embark on some Thursday night "window shopping" (I don't say "shopping" because I sound more virtuous if I use the term "window shopping". It's a more accurate reflection of what I did anyway; 90% of the time was spent browsing, while the rest was spent spending money) I was so famished that I stopped for Maccas and had a McChicken meal. How impulsive. Normally I don't have Maccas unless I'm on some never ending roadtrip to Canberra and I've earnt my right to be greasy and cheap. Whereas today, there was absolutely no excuse other than: I need energy to go shoe shopping.
I scoffed that down and wandered around Wittner, Nine West and Witchery. Most of the time I just had a look, stared at the width of the base of the heel (5mm by 5mm), frowned at the height of the heel (10cm and over) and contemplated that I couldn't be bothered putting them on because I'd probably break an ankle just turning it over it my hands.
So I just looked, and looked and grew more and more discouraged. The one time I summoned the gumption to try on a pair of wedge heels (Note: wedges are amazing, you can run in them, skip down the street and maybe even throw some hoops) I took off my shoe and realised that I was wearing the festiest stockings I own. Guys wouldn't know this, but when your stockings have been worn too many times over, you get stacks of holes and pilly bits everywhere. It's gross even if you're the one wearing them, let alone a bystander having to endure it being thrust in their blameless face.
Anyway, as soon as it registered that today was Festy Stocking Day, I whipped my old shoes back on and zipped out of the shop in record time. Needless to say it was a very unsuccessful shoe shopping trip and I didn't do my Maccas meal justice.
I comforted myself with a trashy mag and tucked my festy stocking-ed feet under the train seat. Who needs awesome shoes anyway? Everyone knows that people only look at your top half anyway! Right.... right???
It's an ordeal. It's boring. I'm always wearing work clothes when I shop for them which means I spend half the time trying to bridge the gap between my legs and my skirt (hello, otherwise I'll flash the entire planet). I feel awkward, hot and pressured by the sales girls who watch me while I ask accompanying friends/sibling for their opinion and squint uncomfortably at the pint sized mirror leaning against the wall.
Shoe fetish? Yeah right.
Today as I left work to embark on some Thursday night "window shopping" (I don't say "shopping" because I sound more virtuous if I use the term "window shopping". It's a more accurate reflection of what I did anyway; 90% of the time was spent browsing, while the rest was spent spending money) I was so famished that I stopped for Maccas and had a McChicken meal. How impulsive. Normally I don't have Maccas unless I'm on some never ending roadtrip to Canberra and I've earnt my right to be greasy and cheap. Whereas today, there was absolutely no excuse other than: I need energy to go shoe shopping.
I scoffed that down and wandered around Wittner, Nine West and Witchery. Most of the time I just had a look, stared at the width of the base of the heel (5mm by 5mm), frowned at the height of the heel (10cm and over) and contemplated that I couldn't be bothered putting them on because I'd probably break an ankle just turning it over it my hands.
So I just looked, and looked and grew more and more discouraged. The one time I summoned the gumption to try on a pair of wedge heels (Note: wedges are amazing, you can run in them, skip down the street and maybe even throw some hoops) I took off my shoe and realised that I was wearing the festiest stockings I own. Guys wouldn't know this, but when your stockings have been worn too many times over, you get stacks of holes and pilly bits everywhere. It's gross even if you're the one wearing them, let alone a bystander having to endure it being thrust in their blameless face.
Anyway, as soon as it registered that today was Festy Stocking Day, I whipped my old shoes back on and zipped out of the shop in record time. Needless to say it was a very unsuccessful shoe shopping trip and I didn't do my Maccas meal justice.
I comforted myself with a trashy mag and tucked my festy stocking-ed feet under the train seat. Who needs awesome shoes anyway? Everyone knows that people only look at your top half anyway! Right.... right???
1 comment:
Hi! I loved the post :) It made me chuckle. I can't walk in heels either. I remember coming back from Cambodia where I wore flip flops for four months... I couldn't even put on flats without being in extreme pain!
I'm getting a little bit better... but still dread the shoe store!
Good luck with that. Either way, love the blog :)
Nikki
www.nikkiyeager.com
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