Hate Mail

Dear new black shoes:
I hate you. Before you get all weepy and start asking "why?" let me just finish because I plan on telling you exactly why. There were plenty of shoes that I could have taken home that day. But I saw the way you looked on the display among the others. Your fake croc pattern, 1 inch heel and mary-jane strap caught my eye. I thought you would be a good sensible shoe that wasn't frumpy. So I chose you. After I unpacked you at home, I should have known that there was going to be trouble when I tried to give you a gel insert which you refused to accept...so I left it out. Against my better judgment, I took you on my trip anyway.

By the time I was dropped off at my hotel I would estimate that we took roughly 150 steps all day. My feet were already starting to hurt. I walked the block to my conference location so that I could register. I then crossed the street to eat lunch. It was at that point I had to call in reinforcements. I had to call my husband so that he could locate the nearest drugstore. Sadly, three blocks later I was nearly in tears as I purchased multiple boxes of every foot salve, blister pad that promised relief. By the time I returned to my hotel room (after getting lost from the blinding pain) I was sure my feet were broken in multiple places.

I have spent a fortune in the first aid section of the nearest drugstore multiple times (which is 3 blocks away mind you). I'm missing a Black Crowes concert because of you. I could be listening to songs that take me back to the days immediately after high school spent being consoled by a dear friend after my first breakup listening to Thorn In My Pride. Thankfully I more closely associate the music with that friend than the ex. But I digress. For as much as I was looking forward to hearing one of my favorite bands, the thought of walking the one block to the concert triggered a panic attack. And so instead I sit here in my hotel room with mangled feet watching tv. I most likely will be leaving you here in the hotel when I pack up and leave....because I hate you.