Of Shoe Shopping

Let's get this out there before we start:  Girls love shoe shopping.  I don't care how tomboy, athletic, mountain dwelling, corn fed, club footed or tall you are, you LOVE shoes.  So don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about in this post.  You've been there.  You've been a self-deluded Bambi.

I went to DSW last week with a friend who shall remain nameless (Tricia).  My day started out with a plan to meet Nameless for coffee and then go home and get some work done.  Coffee led to a mani/pedi at the salon, followed by a trip to DSW and then lunch at Cheesecake Factory.

Here's how our time at DSW went in my mind -

Me:  Oh look at all the fabulous designer shoes in the size 7 section.
Nameless:  Wow - all the best shoes are in size 7, what luck that you have such feminine feet!  I'm here to compliment you on how long and sexy your legs look in 4" heels.
Me:  I love you.  Look at these Steve Maddens, the ones Angelina Jolie wears.

I then slide my feet effortlessly into these gorgeous shoes and imagine how amazing they would look with my legs demurely crossed on the set of Late Night (or whatever) to discuss my latest film project.  This shoe alone could score me a movie deal.  Moving with such grace down the store aisle that the employees shed tears of joy.  One is inspired to compose a song in my honor.

I think I look like this.

Here's how it went down in real life -

Me:  There are 4 pairs of 7's  in the discount section that don't suck.
Nameless:  That's what you get for having an average foot.  I'll be over here browsing the huge selection in my size.
Me:  Ooooooh, Steve Maddens (that part was real).

I slump over and remove my black flat, squish my foot into the SM shoe and realize that the bottoms of my pants are still rolled up from the pedicure.  In order to see how the shoe would look with jeans on (since I wear skirts about once a year) I roll the leg down on that side.  As I walk down the aisle with one 4" heel  and one flat shoe, the slick bottom on the heel slides in all directions on the carpet.  This is now a recreation of the scene where Bambi (me) wobbles around on the frozen pond while Thumper (Nameless) laughs at what a doofus Bambi is.  I ignore reality and decide I must have them.

I actually look more like this.

Over to the purse aisle where I convince Nameless to buy a purse that I like to rub.  It's really soft leather and it feels like plush, don't judge me.  It's only after 45 minutes in the store and a walk across the parking lot that I realize I still have one pant leg rolled up and one down, gangland style.  Nameless laughs at me so as she's putting the bags in the trunk I pretend I'm her car and yell out "Hurry up and shove it in my butt." and giggle at my own perceived hilarity.  If Nameless wasn't such an idiot in her own right she'd no doubt refuse to hang with me.  She later gets karmic revenge when the massive piece of cheesecake from lunch revisits my intestines for two hours with the burning pain of lactose intolerance.  F you Cheesecake Factory.

I'm now going to go for a walk in my new shoes through the industrial block of San Carlos to brighten my day.  Peace and love, fellow shoe shoppers.  May your weekend be filled with boxes and boxes of new fall booties.