Shit, I Hate My Feet
So I went to buy some workplace-appropriate flats, since lolmom is tired of my snaffling hers (apparently I "stretch them out" or something) and even though I can wear jeans to work, I can't wear sneakers. Thus, my excursion to Shoe Carnival.
I should mention here that, while I like shoes, I hate shopping for shoes. There are a multitude of reasons for this.
1.) There are these fucking deformed freaks who have arches in their feet. (Oh, yeah, that's a real evolutionary advantage. You can just arch on away to safety when the saber-toothed tiger comes! Good luck with that, deformed freaks.) I am all for being nice to the deformed freaks since they cannot help their malformed feet. However, I object to the fact that shoes are apparently only designed and sold with deformed freaks in mind and not meant for normal people with no arches. (This is an evolutionary advantage because otherwise they would have collapsed when I was working at Lol-Mart and standing for 4-8 hours every day.)
2.) My feet are a normal size that isn't difficult to find, but they are wide. This is more difficult to find shoes for than you might think. Also, it is the policy of Shoe Carnival to put at least fifty percent of the shoes I might want to try on directly above my head, sandwiched under five other boxes that will all promptly collapse and bury me if I try to get the one box I do want.
3.) The two smallest toes on each of my feet are malformed. (Which I guess makes me a deformed freak too. But at least I don't have arches in my feet.) The deformity is congenital, not the result of an injury, so there's not a whole lot I can do about it. (I hate my feet, to be honest, and if I thought I could get the insurance to cover it, I would have the two smallest toes fixed surgically, but since they don't interfere with my being able to walk, I doubt I'd have much success there.) You can see Photographic Documentation here (third picture down).
4.) All the workplace-appropriate shoes are kinda boring. Also, I had trouble finding ones I like in black (I do not really like brown very much, and it goes with fewer things).
5.) The first pair of shoes I tried on pinched my toes. Ow.
Eventually, however, I was able to find a pair that didn't pinch my toes and felt a lot better on. Also, it was not aesthetically offensive to me. (These shoes aren't for showing off; they're just for wearing to work. Nobody's going to see them or take much notice of them, other than to confirm that I'm not wearing sneakers, sandals, or stripper heels.)
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Now I just need new jeans and new bras. (In real life, I don't wear one, but we must all make sacrifices for the workplace. Besides, I have 128 hours in the week to not wear one.)
And then I went to the grocery store and spent $21 on fish yay. I should really have bought the frozen grouper, both cost-wise and because I could have gotten more, but I WANTED FRESH. Also, tried and failed to find tea for lolmom (Lol-Mart is all out of Twinings' English Breakfast, and so is Schnucks).
In other news, and to appease the many of you who only read my journal to learn how the kit is doing:
Oliver found his favorite ball (it looks like a crumpled-up piece of foil, and I had to remind lolmom not to throw it away) under the china cabinet. He has been playing happily with it all evening, until he got a little overzealous in one corner of the dining room and knocked the phone off the side table, which triggered a frantic run into the living room at top speed. Also, his default mode is "I'm so cute! Rub my tummy!", which is adorable most of the time but doesn't work so well for those special times when I'm trying to take food into the house. He just had his shots, and now he shouldn't need to see the vet for a year, unless he concusses himself knocking things over.
My moral dilemma persists at a medium pace. This won't resolve it, but it would probably be an antisocial act for me to give J an ulcer by not writing, so I'd better get on that.
l33 out.
I should mention here that, while I like shoes, I hate shopping for shoes. There are a multitude of reasons for this.
1.) There are these fucking deformed freaks who have arches in their feet. (Oh, yeah, that's a real evolutionary advantage. You can just arch on away to safety when the saber-toothed tiger comes! Good luck with that, deformed freaks.) I am all for being nice to the deformed freaks since they cannot help their malformed feet. However, I object to the fact that shoes are apparently only designed and sold with deformed freaks in mind and not meant for normal people with no arches. (This is an evolutionary advantage because otherwise they would have collapsed when I was working at Lol-Mart and standing for 4-8 hours every day.)
2.) My feet are a normal size that isn't difficult to find, but they are wide. This is more difficult to find shoes for than you might think. Also, it is the policy of Shoe Carnival to put at least fifty percent of the shoes I might want to try on directly above my head, sandwiched under five other boxes that will all promptly collapse and bury me if I try to get the one box I do want.
3.) The two smallest toes on each of my feet are malformed. (Which I guess makes me a deformed freak too. But at least I don't have arches in my feet.) The deformity is congenital, not the result of an injury, so there's not a whole lot I can do about it. (I hate my feet, to be honest, and if I thought I could get the insurance to cover it, I would have the two smallest toes fixed surgically, but since they don't interfere with my being able to walk, I doubt I'd have much success there.) You can see Photographic Documentation here (third picture down).
4.) All the workplace-appropriate shoes are kinda boring. Also, I had trouble finding ones I like in black (I do not really like brown very much, and it goes with fewer things).
5.) The first pair of shoes I tried on pinched my toes. Ow.
Eventually, however, I was able to find a pair that didn't pinch my toes and felt a lot better on. Also, it was not aesthetically offensive to me. (These shoes aren't for showing off; they're just for wearing to work. Nobody's going to see them or take much notice of them, other than to confirm that I'm not wearing sneakers, sandals, or stripper heels.)
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Now I just need new jeans and new bras. (In real life, I don't wear one, but we must all make sacrifices for the workplace. Besides, I have 128 hours in the week to not wear one.)
And then I went to the grocery store and spent $21 on fish yay. I should really have bought the frozen grouper, both cost-wise and because I could have gotten more, but I WANTED FRESH. Also, tried and failed to find tea for lolmom (Lol-Mart is all out of Twinings' English Breakfast, and so is Schnucks).
In other news, and to appease the many of you who only read my journal to learn how the kit is doing:
Oliver found his favorite ball (it looks like a crumpled-up piece of foil, and I had to remind lolmom not to throw it away) under the china cabinet. He has been playing happily with it all evening, until he got a little overzealous in one corner of the dining room and knocked the phone off the side table, which triggered a frantic run into the living room at top speed. Also, his default mode is "I'm so cute! Rub my tummy!", which is adorable most of the time but doesn't work so well for those special times when I'm trying to take food into the house. He just had his shots, and now he shouldn't need to see the vet for a year, unless he concusses himself knocking things over.
My moral dilemma persists at a medium pace. This won't resolve it, but it would probably be an antisocial act for me to give J an ulcer by not writing, so I'd better get on that.
l33 out.