Supportive Shoe Shopping

by Molly

This weekend proved to be a well earned break from last week’s busy corporate tax return filing deadline. I know most of you probably also felt the heat of that deadline as well.

Kidding.

Anyways, I didn’t have to work the weekend, so I elected to spend it on some me time. Terry was coaching an event at the law school, so I was left to my own devices. That = meeting my friend (and new co-worker!) for brunch. Until 3pm. It was really it was an all out marathon of girl talk and mimosas, and less of a “brunch”. We did celebrate St. Patty’s with one strange tasting dark beer. I couldn’t tell you if you paid me the name of the drink, but I do know I spoke with an Irish accent to get it.*

After “brunch” I conned Celeste (friend/co-worker) into going “supportive shoe” shopping with me. Not to be confused with “supportive” shoe shopping with me. Please know I never need support when it comes to purchasing shoes. You maybe haven’t seen my extensive shoe collection, but trust me when I say it is impressive. I’m no Carrie Bradshaw, but I could be the old woman who lived in her sometimes Payless/sometimes designer shoes. I needed counsel this time due to the fact I’m still battling tendonitis and was instructed by my sports medicine rehab specialist to invest in more supportive shoes. Note she did not say orthopedic, thank God. For just a temporary period I have to say goodbye to heels, flip flops, and otherwise “crappy” (her words not mine) shoes. I am allowed wedges. Phew.

Keep in mind I was pretty intoxicated when I settled on the Clarks store. Let’s be honest, one would have to be. Sorry if I offended you just now.

I didn’t even know where the store was. I spent 30 minutes tracking it down (fighting through multiple quinceaneras) in the mall. After almost an hour of deliberating, Celeste convinces me to purchase two pairs. She has my best interests at heart (but is also drunk), and does her best to help me find a decent solution. I leave sad, but sure this is good and practical decision. I also think it is a great excuse to buy an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. If you are going to wear Clarks, you can also eat mall pretzels. Sounds about right now, even sober.

Again, sorry if I offended you just now.

Celeste and I are both pretty worn down from the day of extensive drinking, lack of decent food, and the quinceanera battles (two girls were both wearing zebra print formals! Face off!). We decide to part ways for an afternoon nap and dinner. I get home and sleep for a while on the couch while also keeping a Sex and the City marathon on the TV. Yes, this just further disgusts me that I just invested in Clarks. WWCBD. Not that.

Carrie didn’t have tendonitis. She doesn’t know how hard it can be out there!

Once Terry gets home, I’m more sober and starting to realize what I’ve done. I show him my purchases.

He looks at me with disbelief and tells me we are taking them back tomorrow. There is no room to protest in his tone. Not that I was going to. He also mumbles something to the effect of “this isn’t like you” like I’m loosing my mind or something.

I settle on being drunk as my excuse for such poor decision making, and Terry just shakes his head.

Sunday comes and Terry “supportively” takes me back to the mall to return the Clarks. Then he cracks about a million jokes involving the terms “Rockport”, “Naturlizer”, and “Aerosoles” to me before the day is over.

So here I am, Monday sporting a new pair of faux snake skin driving loafers and feeling mildly out of sorts. I will admit my outfit turned out looking more like a butch Grace Kelly than a sleek Parisian casual. I’m obviously going to work on the styling, but at least they are more age appropriate and much more fashion forward.

Thanks T for the tough love.

*Side note: my Irish accent is totally how I hooked Terry. It really is quite good.

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