Recently, there was a little holiday wherein the common practice is to exchange gifts. I usually take on the role of my dad's elf during these times, and this year was no exception. After I solemnly promised to act incredibly surprised by his thoughtfulness and generosity in the selection of my gift, I proceeded to purchase myself on his behalf a gift card to DSW Shoe Warehouse.
The holiday came and I opened my gift and exclaimed with glee, "Dad! You shouldn't have! I LOVE IT!" And he smiled with self-satisfied pleasure and asked, "Great! I am so glad! What did I get you?"
A couple days later I showered and prepared to reenter general society. I applied makeup, kind of blowdried my hair and grabbed my gift card. Off to DSW I went!
I am not generally much of a shopper. I am a buyer. I know what I want, I walk into the store, I go directly to the target item, I pick it up, I walk to the register, I pay for the item, I walk out of the store. Shopping as performed by most of the female species is just not something I enjoy.
Except when it comes to shoes. I love shoes. Heels, boots, flats, sandals, tennis shoes, etc., I love them one and all. This is apparently a genetic affliction as I recall the extensive shoe collections of my mother and grandmother.
Unfortunately, I am a super-sized woman living in a micro-world. My feet are long and skinny, which can be pretty in a shoe, but they are attached to really long legs that are joined by bad knees. I love the look of heels, I hate the pain and unsteadiness of actually walking in heels. And, it's hard to find pretty shoes in a size 11 narrow.
When I do go shoe shopping, I usually spend an inordinate amount of time looking at all of the pretty shoes, and then buying the one (and probably only one) pair of utilitarian black low-heeled grandma loafers. So, so sad.
I enter the store riding the high of knowing I am about to look at pretty things. I don't allow myself to think about the fact that every pair I am about to try on will not fit, and I will soon be spending my little gift card to purchase shoes only a longshoreman would love.
I walk up and down the aisles. I try on the boots. I try on the booties. I try on the loafers. About an hour into my excursion, I begin to wander down the rows of heels. I try on some incredibly impractically gorgeous shoes that would necessitate a career change to "lady of the evening".
At the back of the store is the discount racks. I walk to the far distant corner where they keep the Amazon sizes, and check it out. Normally, the discount racks do not contain many pairs in my size, and what usually is there is.....well......not pretty.
But not today. Nope, not today. I was immediately drawn to a box on the top rack. Yes, the rack most people need a step stool to grab, but I needed only to reach a bit above my head. There was the most ridiculously beautiful impractical incredible pair of RED SUEDE BOOTS.
This was equivalent to Ralphie's Red Ryder BB Gun, y'all! It was as though the heavens had opened and shined a light upon my own personal pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!
I took down the box, shucked my shoes, and slid my feet into the boots. AND THEY FIT! I stood up, which was quite a feat as the heels on these babies are five inches long. And they have a beautiful ruffling detail at the top. And they are red suede. And I have absolutely nothing to wear with them. And I have absolutely no where to wear them. I took a step, and I absolutely will most likely break my neck if I attempt to do anything more than lean against the wall and allow all passersby to bask in the glory of the red suede boots.
I sighed, and then sat back down. I shed a tear as I pulled the beauties off my feet and placed them lovingly back in the box. My heart broke as I stood to return them to their throne on high. I saw the price tag and quickly did the discount in my head, and they were marked down to only $40.
I consoled myself with thoughts of their impracticality. I reminded myself that my $25 gift card would be better spent on something I could wear frequently. My name is not Dorothy and this is not Kansas, I do not need red shoes. I reluctantly walked back to the ugly shoe area.
But I kept looking back across the store. Over there, where the light shone. I was certain I could hear them calling me. I couldn't ignore them, that would just be rude. I walked back over to gently pat them and tell them not to despair, that I was sure that someone would come soon to give them a good home.
Another lady wandered into the area, and I may or may not have growled at her as she stared too long at the red boots. Her look of alarm spurred me to action. I grabbed the boots and ran to the register. THEY WERE MINE!
I brought them home, and proudly showed El Hubbo. His comment? "Wow. Those are really...........red. Where are you going to wear those? Are you sure you won't hurt yourself?" I placed my hand over his mouth so that he would stop talking. I told my red suede boots not to worry, I would care for them.
Each day, I whispered to my boots that I would find a day to wear them. Not when it was raining, not when it was cold and icy, etc. Finally, one fine Sunday morning, the day arrived. I managed to pull together an outfit that might go with the boots, got ready for church, and then unwrapped them from the tissue in the box. I put them on and zipped them up. I asked El Hubbo what he thought.
"You look really nice. And really tall. But if you don't behave, I'm going to push you and yell TIMBER!"
"Go ahead, shorty. I'll take one of these off and stab you with the heel. I'm going to go practice walking."
I tottered around the house like a toddler until I could take 10 consecutive steps without grabbing on to something to steady myself.
Little Sunshine understood. "Mom! Where did you get those? They are beautiful! But, how are you going to walk into church?"
"I'm going to make your daddy drop me off at the door."
"Good plan!" she said.
Number One Son was not as supportive. "Uh, mom, you can't wear those."
"Sure I can! Come here, and let me put a hand on your shoulder. Just walk slow so I can keep up."
"Nope. If you fall, you crawl," he popped off.
"I am going to get so many compliments when I wear these to your funeral," I said. He giggled as he jogged away.
But, for real, y'all.......aren't they just gorgeous?
The holiday came and I opened my gift and exclaimed with glee, "Dad! You shouldn't have! I LOVE IT!" And he smiled with self-satisfied pleasure and asked, "Great! I am so glad! What did I get you?"
A couple days later I showered and prepared to reenter general society. I applied makeup, kind of blowdried my hair and grabbed my gift card. Off to DSW I went!
I am not generally much of a shopper. I am a buyer. I know what I want, I walk into the store, I go directly to the target item, I pick it up, I walk to the register, I pay for the item, I walk out of the store. Shopping as performed by most of the female species is just not something I enjoy.
Except when it comes to shoes. I love shoes. Heels, boots, flats, sandals, tennis shoes, etc., I love them one and all. This is apparently a genetic affliction as I recall the extensive shoe collections of my mother and grandmother.
Unfortunately, I am a super-sized woman living in a micro-world. My feet are long and skinny, which can be pretty in a shoe, but they are attached to really long legs that are joined by bad knees. I love the look of heels, I hate the pain and unsteadiness of actually walking in heels. And, it's hard to find pretty shoes in a size 11 narrow.
When I do go shoe shopping, I usually spend an inordinate amount of time looking at all of the pretty shoes, and then buying the one (and probably only one) pair of utilitarian black low-heeled grandma loafers. So, so sad.
I enter the store riding the high of knowing I am about to look at pretty things. I don't allow myself to think about the fact that every pair I am about to try on will not fit, and I will soon be spending my little gift card to purchase shoes only a longshoreman would love.
I walk up and down the aisles. I try on the boots. I try on the booties. I try on the loafers. About an hour into my excursion, I begin to wander down the rows of heels. I try on some incredibly impractically gorgeous shoes that would necessitate a career change to "lady of the evening".
At the back of the store is the discount racks. I walk to the far distant corner where they keep the Amazon sizes, and check it out. Normally, the discount racks do not contain many pairs in my size, and what usually is there is.....well......not pretty.
But not today. Nope, not today. I was immediately drawn to a box on the top rack. Yes, the rack most people need a step stool to grab, but I needed only to reach a bit above my head. There was the most ridiculously beautiful impractical incredible pair of RED SUEDE BOOTS.
This was equivalent to Ralphie's Red Ryder BB Gun, y'all! It was as though the heavens had opened and shined a light upon my own personal pot of gold at the end of the rainbow!
I took down the box, shucked my shoes, and slid my feet into the boots. AND THEY FIT! I stood up, which was quite a feat as the heels on these babies are five inches long. And they have a beautiful ruffling detail at the top. And they are red suede. And I have absolutely nothing to wear with them. And I have absolutely no where to wear them. I took a step, and I absolutely will most likely break my neck if I attempt to do anything more than lean against the wall and allow all passersby to bask in the glory of the red suede boots.
I sighed, and then sat back down. I shed a tear as I pulled the beauties off my feet and placed them lovingly back in the box. My heart broke as I stood to return them to their throne on high. I saw the price tag and quickly did the discount in my head, and they were marked down to only $40.
I consoled myself with thoughts of their impracticality. I reminded myself that my $25 gift card would be better spent on something I could wear frequently. My name is not Dorothy and this is not Kansas, I do not need red shoes. I reluctantly walked back to the ugly shoe area.
But I kept looking back across the store. Over there, where the light shone. I was certain I could hear them calling me. I couldn't ignore them, that would just be rude. I walked back over to gently pat them and tell them not to despair, that I was sure that someone would come soon to give them a good home.
Another lady wandered into the area, and I may or may not have growled at her as she stared too long at the red boots. Her look of alarm spurred me to action. I grabbed the boots and ran to the register. THEY WERE MINE!
I brought them home, and proudly showed El Hubbo. His comment? "Wow. Those are really...........red. Where are you going to wear those? Are you sure you won't hurt yourself?" I placed my hand over his mouth so that he would stop talking. I told my red suede boots not to worry, I would care for them.
Each day, I whispered to my boots that I would find a day to wear them. Not when it was raining, not when it was cold and icy, etc. Finally, one fine Sunday morning, the day arrived. I managed to pull together an outfit that might go with the boots, got ready for church, and then unwrapped them from the tissue in the box. I put them on and zipped them up. I asked El Hubbo what he thought.
"You look really nice. And really tall. But if you don't behave, I'm going to push you and yell TIMBER!"
"Go ahead, shorty. I'll take one of these off and stab you with the heel. I'm going to go practice walking."
I tottered around the house like a toddler until I could take 10 consecutive steps without grabbing on to something to steady myself.
Little Sunshine understood. "Mom! Where did you get those? They are beautiful! But, how are you going to walk into church?"
"I'm going to make your daddy drop me off at the door."
"Good plan!" she said.
Number One Son was not as supportive. "Uh, mom, you can't wear those."
"Sure I can! Come here, and let me put a hand on your shoulder. Just walk slow so I can keep up."
"Nope. If you fall, you crawl," he popped off.
"I am going to get so many compliments when I wear these to your funeral," I said. He giggled as he jogged away.
But, for real, y'all.......aren't they just gorgeous?
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