**************************************It's no secret. I don't wear heels except on the rarest of occasions. I'm not graceful/coordinated enough to do them justice and besides that, they hurt my feet. You can always tell I'm "dressed up" if I'm wearing heels and/or more than just mascara.
So it is really beyond my comprehension why I thought wearing these
Oh, they're cute and they go perfectly with this one adorable dress but I seem to have forgotten in my zeal that I actually have to strap them to my feet and then WALK in them.
Normally, this is no big deal as I kick them off while I'm at my desk and only really wear them for the walk to and from the car.
I hope the neighbors appreciate all I do for them.
Anyhow, this particular day was different.
I didn't get to sit at my desk all day. Oh no. I had to register my son at school which means walking across the entire parking lot and into the cafeteria at the other end of the building. There's an entrance closer to the cafeteria, but don't you know they lock all the doors except the main entrance.
I guess they're doing their part to make sure we all get a little exercise.
After that, my feet were throbbing. But I only had to suffer long enough to get back to my desk.
But then daughterling calls in a panic. Her registration had been the night before, but her schedule wasn't in her packet AND she couldn't log into the school's website to print it out. Could I "pretty pretty pretty please" go to the school to pick it up?
Shoes back on feet. They're not looking nearly so cute now as I limp back to the car.
Trek across another parking lot
Up a flight of stairs
Stand in line....
Only to be told I needed to go to the main office.
On the other side of the school.
It's a big school. It's actually faster to limp back to the car and drive around to the other side than it is to cut through the hallways.
So back I go -- down the stairs, across the parking lot to the car
vroom vroom vroom to the other side.
Forcefully march my screaming feet across another parking lot, up another flight of stairs down a hall to the office.
...Where I'm told to go to the counselor's office.
down another hall - stand in line again.
ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
My feet are KILLING me by now. I don't look down, but I'm pretty sure there are two bloody stumps strapped into these murderous beasts masquerading as shoes.
I get the schedule --finally!-- and walk aaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way down the hall, down the stairs, and across the parking lot to the car where I stripped of those tortuous contraptions...and didn't put them back on the rest of the day.
The rest of the week I wore my most comfortable (pink!) shoes -- even if they didn't match the rest of my outfit.
I'm pretty sure the neighbors didn't mind.