Posted by: Kristy | January 14, 2009

I’d rather be shopping for a bikini

We all know my weakness.

Kristin has an affinity for shoes.

I’m like a magpie when it comes to shoes. Flats, boots, slingbacks, ballet flats, practical shoes. My eyes and brain whirl with “Oohh, pretty, shiny, sparkly!” It’s like a toddler in the Fisher Price aisle at Toys ‘R Us.

My Achilles heel are stilletoes. Oh. My. Gosh. Give me 3-inch heels and pointy toes and my back straightens out and I walk a little more briskly. Add a pretty design or bling and I feel as if I have “Watch Out, This One’s a Badass” tattooed on my forhead.

Last week I had a spiritual awakening when I discovered a DSW (Discount Shoe Warehouse) that just was built in my city. Surrounded with pair after pair of beautiful, diverse, pretty and inexpensive shoes with 50 percent, 70 percent and 40 percent off stickers grabbing my attention everywhere I turned, I took a breath and realized I had come home. It was a moment that would have done Becky Bloomwood proud (for all of you Sophie Kinsella, chick-lit obsessed friends lurking out there).

So you’ll understand my sorrow when I realized this morning the temperature was close to zero and the snow came up almost to the floor of my car door. The flakes began to hit my windshield more steadily and my eye caught the changing LED display outside a florist shop. While part of my brain was thinking, “Ooh, tulips for $8.95!” the other part thought, “Nine degrees? Really? Really, Mother Nature Mean Cousin Nature? Nine degrees. Do you want me to lose toes to frostbite?”

I pondered and stewed about that for a while. When I got to work and stepped out of my car directly into a snow pile, thus effectively filling my adorable black pumps with the faux zipper on the side (courtesy of my trip to DSW) with cold, wet, icky snow. Then I realized that maybe, just maybe, there’s something I can do to help myself out.

So, grudgingly, I think my next trip to DSW will have to be void of sparkly, pretty, high-heeled goodness. My reciept might just show the purchase of a pair of high-topped, water-proof, furry winter boots. (Because my old ones are trapped in Wapakoneta, never to return. They died in the shoe morgue beneath my desk at the newspaper.)

They can still be adorable, but will provide no elevation and might only inspire me to feel like I have, “Maybe Think About Watching Out, This Girl Has the Potential to be a Badass” printed on my forhead.

But at least I’ll keep all of my toes.

Thanks a lot, Ohio. 🙂

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