Martyr to the cause
On Friday I was feeling a wee bit depressed and so it was not much of a surprise when window shopping turned to in-store browsing, before becoming trying, which inevitably leads to purchasing! Given I am still hoping to lose the totally not baby related 12lbs I put on whilst pregnant with EB, I am loathe to purchase clothes so I fell upon my old friends shoes.
I love shoes. More specifically I love high heeled shoes. In recent years my lack of employment and relatively sedentary lifestyle has allowed my love of heels to spiral higher and higher to the point where most of my favourite shoes I wear on a regular basis are so high that I cannot run in them. I can manage a few little trot type steps, but a mugger with one leg and a walking stick would easily catch me. Furthermore I cannot walk down hill. They leave me precariously balanced on the ball of my foot when standing on a flat surface, a slight incline tends to lead to a teetering trot down, but an actual hill requires the use of a skier’s side step, the humiliation of walking backwards or a hippy carefree bare foot forward. Therefore the sight of a lady in heels jogging across a level crossing in front of my car last week invoked some jealousy. I reckoned I only needed to lose an inch and I would be sprinting with the best of them. Obviously I was not about to sort through the fifty or so pairs of shoes I already own for running heels. I really needed something new. Thus, on Friday afternoon, I found the careless glance in a shop window led to the purchase of not one, but two pairs of sprinty heels – some leopard print sling backs and some gorgeous floral peep toes…
On Saturday I was spending the afternoon shopping on Orchard with D2. She may only be six, but D2 already has an eye for clothes, shoes and accessories. I am not claiming its a good eye, but she knows what she wants. On Saturday she had set her heart on a small shiny blue structured handbag with a twist clasp. She had seen exactly what she wanted in Zara for $40, but I had suggested we check out H&M and Lucky Plaza to see if we could get a similar item at a keener price (she is only six after all, with the commitment of a wild rabbit). After three hours my heels began to hurt, by five they were almost bleeding. So when I woke up this morning there really was only one option open… Plasters! Every step today has been a lesson in torture, but I did manage a quick jog – so it was all worth it in the end….