girls and Shoes!

What is it about women and SHOES?

I could end this post right here and everyone would know exactly what I’m talking about. But I feel the need to elaborate.

See, the other day I went running errands—dragging my unwilling hubby along with me. He was okay going to the HobLob for baskets and other sundry foofie items to girl up our newly remodeled bath.  And he was okay going to Target for matching towels. And it was actually him who suggested we pop into the shoe store that was boasting a 50% off sale. (But here I think it was more his reluctance to pass up a bargain than his tolerance for shoes.)

So, while what I really needed was an upgraded pair of fancy flip flops, what I found myself curiously drawn to were these: 

  

And these:

Okay, maybe even something that looked like these: 

Now I ask you . . . are these flip flops? 

I think not. 

I tried on a pair, hobbled up and down the aisle a few times, wondering where in my shockingly simple style of living would I possibly wear them. This from a person who thinks “going out for the evening” means margaritas at Willies Ice House followed by a good movie. And could I possibly wear these shoes there and not be looked at askance? Of course I couldn't. Not that being looked at askance bothers me, mind you.

   

And yet, still I wanted these things! It was like some long smoldering shoe lust had suddenly manifested itself and come to a raging head within my feminine psyche. I felt an uncontrollable desire to possess me a pair of these ridiculous things regardless their lack of practicality and the high probability that they would sit in my closet, collecting dust until I eventually offer them up in a garage sale. (Can you tell that I’ve succumbed to shoe temptation before?)

And my wonderful husband? He goaded me on! “Oh, honey, those make your legs look great. And look at that perky butt. You have to get them. You just have to!”

   

I’m like, "fine… will you take me somewhere shoe-appropriate if I buy them? And if so, where?"

But he had no answer. See, my husband is just as comfortable at Willies in flat shoes as I am. Made me wonder if he was hoping I'd strut around the house in my perky butt shoes just for him.

   

I’m a little baffled by the whole experience. Even a little embarrassed. Not to mention infinitely happy they didn’t have them in my size! Else I would have impulse-bought my way into a pair of shoes I’d have to dust.

Breathes a heavy sigh of relief.