Vanity, thy name is woman

I went shoe shopping with a friend yesterday, always more fun than going it alone. A half hour into the trying on I noticed that a number of people were staring at me. Well, it was more like a glare actually. Oh, I guess I should mention that the friend wasn't actually with me. I was taking blurry pictures with my iPhone and emailing them, and then waiting for the thumbs up or down. In addition to taking pictures of my feet I was trying to carry around all the boxes with the possible take home shoes with me until a shoe store lady walked up to me with a large tote bag. "Would you like to use this?" I thanked her profusely and realized how myopic I had been since the large tote bags were hanging at the end of every row of shoes. That was when I noticed the blond in the clogs pacing me up and down the aisle. Of course, I couldn't really read her mind but it seemed like she was fascinated by the fact that I had been walking around in each shoe I tried on, only taking them off to try on the next.  The pair I was wearing at the time (see picture above) were the most comfortable of the day despite the fact that they made me just short of six feet tall. It's a powerful feeling being up there in the rarified air, kind of like the afternoons in my childhood spent walking on stilts. 

As I moved to the checkout line about two hours later I was standing behind the blond who had been sort of stalking me. She paid for her two more pair of ugly shoes very similar to the ones she was wearing when she arrived. I wonder if she is thinking the same thing about mine? The check out lady does a little sigh and says, "These are the hottest shoes in the store." Maybe she says that to all the ladies, well, except for my blond friend who has already gone out the door, but somehow I think she is sincere. 

I put on the impractical but hot Steve Madden zipper front heels and modeled them for my husband.  "You aren't going to dance in those are you?' was his only comment. I told him no, and came back with my second pair, a full inch shorter, hot but reasonable for spinning. He gives his approval but I think he is looking at my legs instead of the shoes. I sit down and email my shopping friend who had to leave before my final selection was made. The conclusion is that I have some very hot shoes, less money in my checking account, and I am not necessarily the most practical woman on the planet. I can however guarantee you that I will be having more fun tonight than the blond with her new clunky footwear.