None of it was my fault. It usually isn’t.
After all these years the beloved husband doesn’t understand the impact of words.
Over the weekend he commented that I haven’t bought shoes in a long time. That comment swirled around my head for days making me crazy.
He was right. I bought a pair after my thumb surgery. That’s when I started wearing yoga or exercise pants without zippers and I needed shoes that would work with them. Most exercise clothes (if not all) come in your choice of black, black or black. Yes there is the occasional grey but that’s really a faded black. (I did find navy blue but I have more black than blue.)
Now that I’m thinking about that pair, they qualify as a medical device purchase rather than a shoe extravaganza! Seriously, they were more for my health. No zippers equal new pants and shoes to match.
After a few days, I scheduled a trip to our BIG shoe retailer on the other side of town. It’s like an acre of shoes. (Caution: I have no idea what an indoor acre looks like. Actually I’m not sure what an outdoor acre looks like either.)
You need to pack a toothbrush and jammies for a visit. There is a large cosmetics store in the same shopping center along with other stores. I haven’t investigated the other stores because there is never enough time (or maybe its energy).
The difference between my version of shopping and a normal person is that I take my fantasies with me. They are little spirits that sit on my shoulder and give bad advice. Very bad advice. That’s how a 60 something woman ends up trying on prom gowns she would never have a place to wear (and we are not even going near how they fit or look).
The fantasies go crazy in a shoe store because they love shoes as much as I do. Maybe even more. The store is sectioned off by type. You have to walk through the trendy part first to get to the old lady orthopedic section. That’s where the comfortable shoes are.
First we pass the shoes that have four-inch heels. The fantasy has me trying on a pair or two. I can’t walk in them. I can barely stand. I need a walker! My bunion scar is killing me. However I still try on two pair!
Old feet are not fun. They are not pretty even when manicured. They have knobs and callouses bulging out at places where there shouldn’t be bulges. We hit the sandal section next which is always a challenge.
First up are the thongs, those shoes that go between your big and second toe.
Ever since my bunion surgery, those shoes are not comfortable. (Yes, my bunion surgery was successful and took away the other pain.) Most thongs downright hurt. That eliminates a lot of fashionable shoes.
None of that means that I don’t try them on. You never know if you’ll find that special one. (If you believe that, I have a bridge to sell you!)
After wasting a lot of time trying on shoes I definitely can’t wear but look absolutely awesome on my feet, I move to the ortho section.
Usually I find something that’s somewhat trendy with support and cushioning. Today’s purchase looks like dock shoes but are much more comfortable. (I can’t wear real dock shoes, they are too wide.) They are a charcoal and white stripe and will look great with…..exercise clothes.
My fantasies and I were all happy. I found sandals that weren’t too old-looking. Everything was on sale. All good.
As always, there is a treat for me (not for my fantasies) after such an exhausting excursion.
I love pizza and a new shop opened nearby. It’s called Mod Pizza and for one set price they will put any topping on you want.
It’s all about the toppings because the crust is very thin, almost non-existent. I like a nice bite of bread in my pizza but the hook for me is that you can get drizzles on your pizza afterward. I had balsamic fig drizzle that was out of this world. Vinegar makes everything better.
If this pizza place was ocean side like the one that Nancy Hatch goes it. It would be perfect!