You looked so perfect tucked in that shoe box. So innocently pretty, with your sleek gathers and your prim little knots. I thought, "At last! My search for black flats is over. And, behold, they're on sale!"
Little did I know.
Sunday, I wore you to church. By the end of prayer meeting, the back of my foot was smarting and stinging. "Oh, dear!" thought I, "perhaps I got the wrong size!" But oh, no. It was your treacherous edges. They're just dull enough to not hurt during the five minute try-on in the store, and yet sharp enough to cause a tiny drop of red blood to ooze to my poor skin's surface after an hour.
How could you deceive me so? I loved you. I bought you. I took you home and gave you a nice spot in my closet. I was prepared to wear you often.
Then you had to go and be wickedly uncomfortable.
Sincerely,
Your Formerly-Deluded Owner
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3 comments:
baaaannnnndddddd-aaaiiiiidddddddd . . . don't let them win.
Could you just let your feet get blisters and toughen up (potato peels work wonders)?
Or just wear knee-highs with them?
Yeah, I know it's not ideal, but...
I agree with Jenny, you should let your feet get tough enough to be able to wear them. Trust me, give it a few weeks (more like a month, that is if you wear then all the time) and it won't be a big deal any more!
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