Hello. My name is Jennifer and I am a shoe addict. It has been 93 minutes since my last shoe fix. But it totally was not my fault.
Summer will soon be upon us. Unless of course you live in Texas where it has already bitch-slapped you more than once. My children rudely decided that they would outgrow last year’s summer shoes, so I was forced to take them shoe shopping. For the kids. Really. Shopping for the kids to buy summer shoes.
So I am sitting on the floor of the store amidst rows and rows of shoes trying various sandals on Gabriella (Pink, Mom! They MUST be PINK!) when I hear this faint whisper.
“Psssst…psst…Jenn. Over here.”
I glance around and don’t see anyone. I shrug it off and continue trying to convince Gabriella that shoes that have colors other than pink are not of the devil.
“Psssst…JENN. Over here. OVER. HERE.”
I look over my left shoulder and see them. In all of their 50% off purple glory. My breath catches in my throat. I mean, I have dress sandals, fun sandals, jeans sandals, casual sandals, thongs, strappy and toe-torture sandals. But, the perfect pair of beach/pool/sport flip-flops? (And I quote: “While out and about, you’ll love how soft, lightweight and flexible this sandal’s outsole is. Made of injected EVA, a rubber-like foam that’s lighter than most sandals. The comfort continues with an anatomically molded footbed, which means feet will feel at home instantly. Padded thong strap for slip-on ease. All finished off with a sporty look you’ll love.”) I SO don’t have those. I mean, a gal could search for years and come close, but finding the perfect pair just before summer fun times begin? Unheard of. My heart began to race.
“Come on, Jenn. You know you want us.”
“No. Come on guys! You know I can’t do the shoe thing right now. Why are you tormenting me?”
“We didn’t say you had to buy us. Just come get a closer look. Come on. No one has to know.”
I look around to make sure no one is watching me. I send Gabriella over to her brothers. (Some things you just don’t want to subject your young children to before they are ready. Such as a drooling shoe addicted mom lusting after a fix.)
I pick up the lone “sample-shoe” and run my fingers over the softness of it. I forcefully slam it back down.
“NO.”
“Jenn, really. Just one. You know you want to see how they feel on your feet. Just try it for a second.”
I stammer. “I can’t. You know I am not strong enough to put them on and stop. What if I like the feel? What if “trying” is not enough?” I fondle the shoe some more.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Just your right foot then. Seriously. We both know your right foot is the strong one. It will resist.”
I quickly do the math in my head trying to figure out how long I have been without a shoe fix and figure I am safe.
So, I slide my right foot into the gloriousness of this perfect shoe. YES. I quickly rip the left shoe out of the box and slide my foot into it’s cushy goodness. YES. YES. Oh for the love of flip-flop shoe loving goodness, YES.
I am now the proud owner of my first pair of perfect purple flip-flops.
I may be standing at the beach wedding naked because I couldn’t find a dress, but by all that is shoe yummy goodness, I will have comfortable purple flip-flops on.
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