A Tale of Two Shoes

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was a moment of grand intentions and failed results.

I tend to have dramatic encounters with my footwear.  They are either wonderfully inspired or totally flawed.  And most often, sometimes what I think of as “best intentions” end up in those failed results.

You know those annoying people who change their footwear on the bus, outside of the work entrance, or on the escalator?  Yep, that’s me.  It’s been a progression, though.  Allow me to explain.

At the beginning of my semester in Washington DC, I rode the metro and stared mouth agape at these women who sported ugly tennis shoes with their very-polished suits.  What were they thinking?  Obviously they had no idea how ridiculous they looked.

But it was only a matter of time before I gave in and followed suit.  The stairs down to the Metro and up the Metro and the blocks from the station to work were unkind to my newly purchased pairs of pumps.  Even better, in tennis shoes I could zip past those sidewalk dawdlers and make it to work faster and more efficiently.  I even had a system down for changing: walk up to the guard desk, hand over my driver’s license, swap shoes while they checked my clearance, and then zip down the hallway to my desk.  I got pretty good over four months.

One day I noticed a brassy-blonde, overly-made-up employee going through security in front of me.  She was in her expensive suit and was sporting those boots, those hideous Eskimo-like slippers that went up to her knees.  UGG boots.  Ugggh.  But what horrified me even more was that she had no intention of changing.  No pair of pointy-toed heels to don.  Nope–those boots were there to stay.  I shuddered and vowed to NEVER wear such a thing.

Fast forward three years.  It was late January and horribly cold in Minnesota.  Shivering and miserable, I was slowly starting to understand why people might invest in a pair of those ugggh boots simply for practical purposes.  I hate being cold.  My toes  hate being cold.  Therefore, it might make sense to purchase an item to keep me and my toes warm and happy.  My sweet husband ordered a pair for Valentine’s Day, and I’ve been hooked since, even though they make my feet look three sizes bigger than their actual proportion (a dear friend calls me “Bigfoot” when we shop for shoes).  Ahem.

I’ve swallowed my pride and love how warm and toasty my feet remain, regardless of the amount of snow we Eskimos receive.  And since we’re currently experiencing blizzard-like conditions, I pulled my little (big) feet into my boots this morning and headed out the door.

All was happy and warm and well.  Until I realized, halfway between home and work, that all I had were my Ugggh boots.  No heels.  No flats.  Nothing close to professional looking.  And I became that girl.

Promptly at 8 o’clock, that same “Bigfoot” friend and I made the skyway journey to Target, she in her classy brown boots and I in my uggghly boots and dress pants.  Lovely, just lovely.  Refusing to purchase something akin to what I left at home, my outfit today looks like this:

 Top part winter, bottom part summer.  And my toes are cold.

Pride goeth before a fall.