A Slippery Slope

Usually, I decide what I’m going to wear for work while I’m in the shower.  Most times, I choose my outfit based on one piece I want to wear and then figure out all the rest of the ensemble.  All week long, I’ve had an outfit in mind but have chickened out at the last minute.  Go right ahead and banish the vision of tube tops and cut off jeans from your mind right now.  I work in a corporate setting and, admittedly most days I dress on the lower spectrum of the dress code nevertheless, I am within the bounds of propriety and reason.  I just generally go for comfort rather than high style.  Don’t get me wrong – I own the shoes for high style, just not the stamina.  I have a strange juxtaposition going on: I LOVE shoes and own a lot of them, but I love nothing more than being barefoot all the time.

 So the one piece I’ve wanted to wear all week is a specific pair of shoes.  My trepidation wasn’t from wearing the heels all day, they are surprisingly comfortable.  The reason I wimped out every day was a cold sweat inducing phobia.  These particular shoes have sat in the lovely box on my dresser mocking me since the first week in September.  If you are unfamiliar with the humiliation these shoes have brought to my life, feel free to take a journey back in time and refresh your memory.

Finally, this morning I decided that I needed to look that fear in the face, climb back up on that horse so to speak.  So long as there aren’t any ice cubes, and I pray to God (the god that invented Manolo Blahniks and Christian Louboutin) it doesn’t rain, and I’ll be alright.  I’ll keep you posted.  I’m nothing if not forthcoming with my public embarrassments.