Last Night
"Wow, look at all these adorable high heels in my closet. These shoes are fabulous. Why do I never wear these?" [Picks up a pair of bronze peep-toed stilettos] "I have a perfect outfit for these! I'm glad I painted my toenails today, they'll look great in these. Oh, I'm going to be so pretty at work tomorrow, everybody will think I have a job interview or something!"
Today
"Ow. Ow ow owwwww! Effing shoes! Why do I still keep you in my closet? Why do you hate me? Well, you know what? It's mutual. Tonight you're going in the Goodwill box. Right after I soak my shredded feet. OW!"
My feet are not made for peep-toed high heels. My big feet slide forward and cram my big toe through the peep hole, and it hurts like a son of a biscuit-eating bulldog. Forget water boarding. They should just keep a big box of cheap three-inch peep toes at Guantanamo and make the prisoners walk around in them all day. They'll be spilling their terrorist secrets within the first hour.
Kill me now.
1 comment:
I've been there, oh how I've been there.
Poor feets.
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