I just can't stop myself.
I love these old flats, but I've had them since I taught kindergarten. Since I've been at TCC for about 6 years, that's while ago. In shoe years, that's like geriatric. I could never bring myself to throw them out because they are awesome. Flats are like the flag corps of shoes, heels being the cheerleaders, stilettos being the slutty hot chicks we are all secretly jealous of and want to be. I love heels, but I am a bare feet kind of girl, and after all, I am a book geek who works in a library. But these shoes had a little something special going on; I can't explain it, but they transcended the typical flatness of flats.
But I couldn't even remember the last time I'd worn them.
Then as I was evening Croc-ing Lucy's holey plastic marvels of modern fashion science, it occurred to me.
Before long, well, bling-a-ding-ding.
Look how pretty! Soon, they will sparkle their way past the reference section and into the hearts of my writing center students. Or not. Anyway, I love them.
Forgive my still-swollen postpartum feet. I gain no weight but my feet carry a Big Gulp of water each after my babies for about two months.
Oh, but hello, pretty red pettiskirt. You make it all better.