Thursday, 24 July 2008

My FEET


Ahh, the shoes. Lovely, pretty, summer, open toe shoes. Now with attractive toe marks. Bought with a £20 voucher from Kurt Geiger earlier in the year which brought them down to an acceptable price (for flat shoes. I have this thing about spending lots of money on flat shoes. Can't do it). Perfect for teaming with skinny jeans or a dress. Smart but also casual. Size 5; too big, size 4; cosy but hey, I can wear them in...right? They've never been the comfiest shoes but surely a few more wears will tame the beast? Yes?


No.


On a whim, I shoved them into my overnight bag just before leaving the house on Wednesday morning. Dress and flip flops were the obvious choice for such a heat wave (25degrees I'll have you know) but it's always nice to have options. I was staying in Fulham at the boyfriend's house that night and we were off out for drinks in the evening, so yeah, let's shove these babies in for a test walk.

Holborn, my stop, and I get off the tube. Uh-ohhhh. Something's not right here, my right flip flop is feeling awfully slack. By the time I reach the top of all the 203453534523242 escalators that get you out of the station, it's hanging by a thread. Flip flop is now a slab and nothing more. I pause in the entrance and do a quick swap: flip flops for the flats, and thank my lucky stars that I'd packed a back up pair. Seerrriously. Phew.

That was yesterday at 9.30. By 3pm I'd put a few (really shit, don't buy Scholl, go for Compeed) blister plasters and by 6pm, I'd purchased back up sticky material from Sainsburys to stem the pain and rubbing.

Feet busting that 'not so sexy any more, eh?' covered in plasters look...and as we mingle with the cast of Fame in the pub (ie. legging clad, blonde, perma-tanned troupe of matching girls and backcombed hair, last brushed circa 1980) I'm dreading the next day at work. And it's not because I'm clutching a large glass of wine and feeling giddy. My feet are bloody sore.

Today I have hobbled, stuck, and lubed and lamented, before returning home and finally kicking them into a corner where they will stay until it gets cold enough to wear tights (tomorrow, probably).


That's the last time I EVER spend money on sensible footwear.

Bloody shoes.
Poor feet :(

8 comments:

theperpetualspiral said...

I know, give them to Charlie! He'll sort them out for you!

Miss Understood said...

Shoe shopping is my biggest nighmare. When I traipsed the streets bare-foot in the eighties, people assumed I was a hippy. Fact is, I couldn't find anything to squeeze my fat,hideous flippers into.

Want me to break them in?

Homer said...

*Feels smug*

I knew my red Clark's Horse Whispers had more going for them than just making me look like Rosie from Rosie and Jim.

(My sister visited Foxton Locks yesterday; I was afraid someone was going to seize me and put me in the bow of their narrowboat.)

Clarissa said...

Holborn is my stop. Parsons Green is too. I certainly hope I've never knocked you over with my computer bag!

I don't wear heels. I don't walk gracefully anyway ... it's all wobbles if I get any elevation, but lately my feet are hurting in 'comfy shoes' -- there needs to be a decent arch in there for me.

nuttycow said...

Noooooooooo don't say that! I have similar shoes (but with hideous heel) to wear to the wedding this weekend and I know your pain... just on your big toe, right.

Oh dear. Just going to have to take them off half way through the service :(

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

perpetual - the way i feel right now, he's welcome to them! might make them comfy!

miss - what's the address to send them to? You see a problem, I see a business opportunity :-D

homer - Smug schmug. I know your game. Watch it with the Clarks or you'll end up on one of my WHUCAs :D

clarissa - Weird to think we've probably passed each other about a million times without knowing it. I'm in P. Green most weekends.

nutty cow - if they are anything like these babies, it won't be just your big toe hurting. Try heels, toes, sides of feet...the list continues.

The London Dater said...

I've never understood the fascination women have with shoes. But then again, I guess us men are not supposed to, right? In the same way that we flock to the BBQ to feed our tribalistic male desire for all things fire, women must adorn their feet with style.

I must be honest though - the feet are the last thing a guy ever looks at on a woman. Unless your feet are next to your boobs.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

aha - I hate to burst the male bubble, but I personally don't wear nice shoes for the benefit of boys.

Shoes are definitely just a thing that make ME feel amazing. I also always notice other girls' shoes. It's definitely a girl thing.

It's a bit like nice underwear: you wear them partly because if someone else is going to see you undressed then you'll look nice, but more because when you've got nice underwear on, you feel soooo good about yourself.

 

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