Nothing about this makes sense, but my thought progression went from finishing my Master's degree, which seemed like a big accomplishment, to trying to think of what else I wanted to achieve in my life - and not something that required any brain power because my brain was tired. This led me to think about learning how to walk in high heels. I've never been able to do that convincingly, until recently.
Today I slipped out on my lunch break to buy these shoes.
I wonder what's wrong with me. Why am I focusing on something so brainless and uncharacteristically girly? .... It could have been worse, and it sometimes has been. It's not so bad being left with an insatiable desire to fill my closet full of pretty shoes.
*
12 comments:
Oh, dear, and I thought I alone was a woman of intellect who had somehow morphed into that girly cliche, one who loves shoes. I recently bought a (darling) pair of heels, not too high but a wonderful shade of lilac with tan straps, and promptly went back to wearing sneakers and flip flops. But it's oddly comforting to take them out and look at them sometimes.
Shall we make a lunch date and wear our cool shoes while we discuss the state of the world and how to change it?
You can't imagine, seriously, what a comfort it is to read about your darling lilac heels with tan straps, how much better it makes me feel! Yes, we would have lunch in our pretty shoes, somewhere close by that involved not much walking, and then talk together about Very Important Things. And then change back into our real selves... (I like this idea so so much.)
Weird, it won't let me post as me. But you know my voice, I know you do.
Of course I do. And now I know you by your shoes, too.
I would send you a picture of the lilac darlings, but that's a bit too much like porn.
There you go -- shoe porn. Rhymes with shoe horn. Shoe scorn? Adorn? Torn.
No, I *want* the shoe porn! I actually did a google search for lilac shoes with tan straps, trying to help me envision the lovely things. But nothing. I would love to see them.
I don't think you should count me on wearing this particular pair of shoes when we meet for our lunch date. They kind of rub where the little decorative straps meet the side of the shoe. I'm trying to break them in but it's no fun.
One day we lost dear Mischief.
We did not weep nor mourn,
For we found her perched on shoe rack
Dribbling over high-heeled porn.
We led her to the doctor,
We pumped her full of pills,
And her therapist was savvy
when it came to espadrilles.
Her dreams are made of inches,
She sees everything with straps.
There is no one left to help her now,
Bar Jimmy Choo, perhaps.
*applause applause applause!*
I am printing this out and pasting it in the shoe closet so that I can read it every time I choose which shoes to wear. And so that Shawn can better understand my illness.
Thank you for making my day. :) xx
Those are cute. And you know, the same thing happened to me. I was so proud, immediately post-Ph.D. that I didn't even own a pair of heels. And then... I discovered boots and pumps and strappy sandals and my God, I haven't been the same since. Have you seen "Kinky Boots?" It's wonderful, if you haven't. But I like the line, "The sex is in the heel."
I haven't seen "Kinky Boots", but now I want to. Great line! I'm only 5'4'' so I can stand a little extra height. I wonder why I waited this long...
I read the post and I understand your words, but my male brain can't quite wrap itself around it.
Loved Nic's ode.
Hi Jerry,
Sorry for my absense of late. I knew you were in the process of moving -- but I've also just been lazy. School's nearly over and then I think my brain will unfreeze and allow me to think again.
No expectation here that you should understand about the shoes. I don't really understand it either.
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