Ladies and their shoes
Those must have stilettos.
For most women the concept of purchasing those must have, delightful, cheaper than we could have even imagined high heels, is one of the most wonderful feelings. The journey to the mall thinking about what dress or that one favorite pair of jeans you just managed to fit back into following the holiday season, where you ate way too much chocolate and granny's sweet potato pie. Now they sit snug enough to make the man in your life give you the look. You know, the look that says he likes what he sees and you're in for a threat. Wink wink, how's your father kinda threat. But not right now, right now it is time to shop.
With a hop in your step and a smile on your face you catch slight of those beauties while that 'there they are' far away look glistening in your eyes and you know today is just one of those "I deserved this" days.
Then that horrible sensation washes over you, you know the one that tells you if the shop hasn't got them in your size you just might burn the whole mall to the ground. Your hands begin to sweat, mouth now resembling sandpaper, and out of nowhere your anger grows. The gas you wasted driving from your house through traffic, the time it took to get that perfect parking spot just outside the door but not too close just in case you cut off that elderly couple, who would prefer not to walk a mile to get inside those glass doors. Only to be surrounded by a thousand teenagers on a Saturday screaming a joyous hello to the girl they just seen ten minutes previously, but the same elderly couple who you just know would have no problem throwing you the finger had you taken that better spot. You shake it off as you stroll not trying to look too eager as the sales person smiles your way.
"Don't show your weakness," repeats over and over in your head, or they will be out from behind that counter cutting you off with their cheerful, 'Can I help you?' As much as you appreciate their necessity to ask since they are probably been watched by a manager, who by no fault of their own, has turned into that crazy hawk eyed friend they used to know, as a result of the power been given, that friendship has sadly ended. One would only hope no one got injured in the process.
Finally you make it, pick them up, check the size while forcing back a wail of excitement. You can already see it play out in your mind. The dress, or jeans, your hair, make-up - flawless nails which you have been practicing because 'You can do it yourself' Why? Because you are an independent woman. Of course you know deep down if you F&^K it up you will curse yourself for the rest of the night.
You are ready. You look amazing, while choosing to go with those jeans that you are just so excited they fit again.
The night goes just as you wanted EXCEPT the blasted shoes you just had to have. They are too snug on your baby toe that by now has a blister bigger than it's actual size, your heels have been rubbed raw leaving you to cringe anytime you take a step, but you smile while limping like Quasimodo when you think no one can see. But your girlfriends Oo'd and Ah'd over your must have open toed Playboy stilettos you had been searching for for over a month. They love them. They are jealous that you found them before they got their dirty paws all over them, all the while your silently scream how ridiculous they sound go unheard. Oh, if only they knew you would snatch them off your feet and throw them over the nearest bridge and gladly walk home barefooted the first chance you got.
But you would never do it. Why? Because you are the girl with the fabulous shoe, and your feet will heel.