Ok so you wanna go to a party or a social gathering and look like you have just fallen out of Sex and the City the Movie. But they never tell you how they manage to walk all the way across Manhatten in tiny 6inch heels. But you think sod it, I am a marvellous sexy twenty something. I only need fabulous shoes and attitude.
Well sadly in addition to their fabulous shoes and attitude they also have taxis/limos. Whereas you are poor and stupidly decide to walk from Somerville to Oriel in 10mins flat wearing the sexiest and therefore the highest shoes you own. You arrive marvellously late, of course. And sporting a pair of the world's largest blisters right on the balls of your feet. And you can't take your shoes off - this is formal hall where the main dude in the big throne chair has a direct view of your feet. A bit off-putting for his main course to see your skanky tootsies all blistered and blown up. So you SUFFER.
And then when you are just mustering up the courage to walk home you have to go and have second pudding and drinks and for this you have to STAND UP. And that main dude is there again and you know bare feet dont go with the lovely dress your friend lent you so you persevere. You really try to pay attention to what people are saying about whatever it is they are blabbering on about without mentioning the fact that you feel something the size of a football has crept into your shoe.
But then you get to leave and the agonies start afresh. You attempt to get a taxi before you realise Oriel to Somerville isn't exactly car friendly. So off the shoes come only to be matched with all the crap that seems to suddenly be on the pavement. I don't know where all those stones come from, I really dont. You finally make back to the safety of squashy areas and use the piggy back express a.k.a your boyfriend for toliet trips. And as a reward for such foolishness you indulgently take the day off work the next day. Well, you can't be expected to be fabulous all the time now can you.
Moral of this story - High heel shoes equal days off work.
Well sadly in addition to their fabulous shoes and attitude they also have taxis/limos. Whereas you are poor and stupidly decide to walk from Somerville to Oriel in 10mins flat wearing the sexiest and therefore the highest shoes you own. You arrive marvellously late, of course. And sporting a pair of the world's largest blisters right on the balls of your feet. And you can't take your shoes off - this is formal hall where the main dude in the big throne chair has a direct view of your feet. A bit off-putting for his main course to see your skanky tootsies all blistered and blown up. So you SUFFER.
And then when you are just mustering up the courage to walk home you have to go and have second pudding and drinks and for this you have to STAND UP. And that main dude is there again and you know bare feet dont go with the lovely dress your friend lent you so you persevere. You really try to pay attention to what people are saying about whatever it is they are blabbering on about without mentioning the fact that you feel something the size of a football has crept into your shoe.
But then you get to leave and the agonies start afresh. You attempt to get a taxi before you realise Oriel to Somerville isn't exactly car friendly. So off the shoes come only to be matched with all the crap that seems to suddenly be on the pavement. I don't know where all those stones come from, I really dont. You finally make back to the safety of squashy areas and use the piggy back express a.k.a your boyfriend for toliet trips. And as a reward for such foolishness you indulgently take the day off work the next day. Well, you can't be expected to be fabulous all the time now can you.
Moral of this story - High heel shoes equal days off work.
Current Location: joe's room
Current Mood:
sore
Current Music: these boots were made for walking (or not)
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