So I have this pair of shoes. They are red with pink trim. I don't wear them very often because they are red and pink, already two colors I don't wear much in general, and because they are a very SPECIFIC shade of red and pink. They either clash or look too matchy-matchy, which...is a thing, I guess. Matching too well. Sign of an unimaginative dresser. Or of somebody who didn't read that once in a fashion magazine in the dentist's office when she was 15 while wearing shoes that matched her shirt and purse perfectly, and who then sat there convinced that everybody was silently judging her matchy-matchiness, because when you're 15 you really sincerely believe that people actually give enough of a shit about you to be constantly judging your matchy shoes and/or the fact that your parents are there and they EXIST, oh my God.
Anyway, I bought the red shoes a reeeeeally long time ago, but they're a ballet-style flat that tends to stay relatively in style (???), and since I've worn them maybe three or four times, they still look brand new. So I refuse to get rid of them. Plus they have this adorable striped lining that, in retrospect, is probably why I found them irresistable in the store even though DUH, WHO CARES WHAT THE INSIDE OF A SHOE LOOKS LIKE. I always blame the color for how rarely I wear them, and I scold myself sometimes when I spot them in my closet. "Those are cute shoes," I say, "Stop overthinking them and just wear them with jeans and a t-shirt or something."
I wore them yesterday to an all-day meeting. I wore a blue-and-white striped dress that has a single reddish stripe on the skirt and I left the house feeling very put-together and at maximum capable adult.
And very soon remembered that...oh. It's not just the color. These shoes are too damn small.
These shoes are at least a half a size too small and way too narrow for my hobbit feet, and by the time I arrived at my meeting I could feel my skin swelling up and over the tops of them, deja vu style, because this is what happens every time. I sat down and curled my toes to relieve some of the pressure, and within an hour I gave up and kicked the shoes off under the table and hoped no one would notice. (Or if they did, they'd be enchanted by the pointless yet adorable striped lining!) Bathroom and coffee breaks were weighed against How Badly I Needed Either vs. How Badly I Did Not Want To Put My Shoes Back On. When I finally caved and got up to walk somewhere, I hobbled around so awkwardly you'd think I was wearing six-inch stripper platforms rather than goddamn ballet flats.
By the time I got home six hours later my feet were perfectly outlined with two indent rings — one from the shoe itself, and one from the slipper-sock thing I wore underneath that I never thought was substantial enough to leave a mark, but I guess anything's possible when your feet swell up that badly in super-tight shoes; I'm probably lucky the slipper-sock thing didn't just disintegrate under the pressure and disappear into my bloodstream.
I am telling you this story because 1) My life has gotten that boring that the adventures of the too-small shoes I've inexplicably held onto for close to a decade is seriously all I've got at this point, and 2) I feel like if I write this story down I will remember going forward.
BLOG NOTE TO BLOG SELF: STOP WEARING THOSE SHOES. THEY ARE TOO SMALL, THEY WILL NOT "GIVE," YOU WILL NEVER EVER "BREAK THEM IN" BECAUSE YOU CAN'T KEEP THEM ON FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR WITH CUTTING OFF THE CIRCULATION TO YOUR TOES. JUST GIVE THEM AWAY ALREADY AND BE DONE WITH THEM.
(SECOND BLOG NOTE TO BLOG SELF: Speaking of things you seem to go selectively senile on, you know how you use those two hair products most days? The volumizing goo and the smoothing/de-frizzing cream? You know how about once a year you come up with the BRILLIANT idea to to combine them together in your hand and put them on your hair at the same time, thus potentially saving you FIVE ENTIRE SECONDS of time in the morning? You know how that ends, every time? The goo and the cream merge into a sludge that leaves hundreds of tiny white goo-cream-sludge balls throughout your hair, and those hundreds of tiny white goo-cream-sludge balls will neither absorb into your hair nor comb out. And so once a year you either have to shower and wash your hair a second time or go about your day with your hair full of hundreds of tiny white goo-cream-sludge balls.)
RIP dainty red shoes made for dainy feet that are not shaped anything like mine. I have another meeting tomorrow and will probably just show up in bedroom slippers.