I figured I must’ve been very good this year when I walked away from Christmas with two new pairs of shoes. I considered it a win, since it’s one of my favorite things to blow money on. Plane tickets and shoes take up most of my disposable income.
I have been on the hunt to rediscover the Seattle that I loved so long ago, revisiting places I’ve enjoyed in the past, making time to go places I enjoy even though I feel tired and worn out, and the dreariness of the wintertime seeps into my bones.
So the other day when I had to head to a FedEx to return a third pair of shoes I had bought that sadly didn’t fit, I decided to at least rock my new suede beige Christmas booties to go sacrifice the other pair of shoes back to their maker.
The sun was shining for the first time in days, and people were emerging from their winter hibernation for the afternoon to soak up those elusive rays before they disappeared again for weeks.
I was feeling good. I had on cute shoes and really, are they all meant to be practical?
However I felt a tinge of pain breaking in these booties after I delivered my package in Fremont. I am not in that neighborhood as often as I should be for essentially living in it, and I keep meaning to explore what it has to offer.
So when I saw the farmer’s market was hopping that Sunday, I knew I needed to at least walk through to scout it out.
It was interesting, yes. But I felt some serious pain in my feet so I started to walk home, and I knew I had bitten off more than I could chew with breaking in the booties on this trek. Plus I had an uphill climb home.
I felt the blisters forming and at one point, stopped to hold onto a bike rack to unzip them and saw the open wound, knowing I still had about 5 blocks to go. I wanted to cry.
I did what any rational person does at the point when they decide they are going to either die or have to amputate their feet. I called my mom.
And she listened to me bitch the whole way home while I was limping home slowly in my unzipped booties and talking to her about the pros and cons of taking the booties off and walking in my socks.
That seemed unsanitary and unsafe, and I wasn’t about to lose all my pride yet.
Though it really wouldn’t be something unheard of in my neighborhood as of late.
The other day I was walking to the grocery store when I saw a guy just standing in socks, eating noodles out of a cup and talking to himself, which seemed a particularly odd choice as it was raining.
And today, I walked up to Green Lake in my quest to explore the Seattle I enjoy being around, and had to do a double take when the person in front of me had their pants down around their ankles, and I was seeing a full on bare ass in front of me. At 1pm. On a Monday.
I’m sure in my given bootie crisis, people would have looked away, refusing to make eye contact and kept on walking, assuming I was simply slowly losing my mind and beyond help.
But I limped away like the crazy person I am, refusing to take off the shoes and wondering how bad the damage would be.
I caved when I reached my apartment complex and removed my shoes as soon as I walked in the door, of course walking through a party in the main basement area holding my shoes in my hand like I was doing some sort of walk of shame from the night before. This is an area that is notably empty on most days, so of course it was full at this given moment.
I was grateful to have the elevator to myself so I didn’t have to explain to someone the amount of pain I was in.
The good news is, I went through a slip on mule phase this past year which has been incredibly helpful this past week in my “recovery” from the bootie related injuries I’ve sustained.
Will I wear them again?
I love a good shoe. Maybe I’ll consider a shorter trek next time, but I’m not quite ready to give them up yet.