Can shoes ever cross the line when they are more fashionable than they are functional? I’m wearing my Aldo Fawson Suede Pumps again, which I haven’t done for a while. They are sexy stiletto heels that know how to work toe cleavage, but I keep forgetting how uncomfortable my feet are in them after long periods of time. Since they’re such a great color and so cute, I just can’t let them go. These shoes are definitely heartbreakers, like that really hot guy (or the one who thinks he’s hot shit) who knows (or just simply believes of) how good good looking he is. Yes, I am talking about the one who continues to break our hearts, but is kept around despite knowing that he’ll just continue to break them again and again. I guess some people can’t understand why some one would even consider wearing an uncomfortable pair of shoes. I can because I do. I can’t; however, understand a friend of a friend, “Betty,” who is with an asshole who constantly cheats on her, but she continues to go back to the cocky douchebag. So Betty has been dating “Stanley” for over a year and deep down she knows he’s the biggest flirt, treats her like crap, and she finally confirmed that there were tons of other girls that he’s cheated on her with. There are a lot of things that go on in relationships, behind closed doors, that people from the outside looking in don’t know about. It’s very easy to judge, not practice what we preach, or assume it’s that easy to just throw a relationship away when that person still sees value in some one, some thing, or just not enough in herself.
I should probably remember to stop wearing these shoes for long periods of time. I guess I still see some inkling in hope that wearing them the next time might not produce the same discomfort. In reality, I need to remind myself that that pain I feel time and time again is self-inflicted, just as Betty’s cycle of hurting herself by allowing the abuse. It’s not just the shoe’s fault, I’m wearing them. It’s not just Stanley’s fault, Betty’s still dating him. It does takes two to tango. I have concluded over the years of observing these way-to-common instances that I just need to shut the hell up about any one’s douchebag dude and be resigned to the fact that we make own decisions, we make our beds, and we lay in them.
I think the older, or rather, wiser I have become, I tolerate some things a lot less than I used to (yeah 6 inch heels, that means you). Taste in clothing or shoes have become more geared towards being practical (no, I don’t mean ugly), but the qualities in things I am looking for have definitely changed. I guess Betty will learn in time (hopefully) to make the right decisions for herself the wiser she becomes, or not… It’s her life. I have my opinions about the situation, but vocalizing any decisions that I may make for myself usually doesn’t ever initiate any change in some one else. I know this because no one can talk me out of wearing these painfully cute shoes. Betty walks in her shoes and I walk in mine and the fact is these shoes got the best of me, I just keep on coming back incessantly; and although our circumstances are quite different from each other, we both seem to be singing the same tune, “Oh why did you have to run your game on me, I should have known right from the start you’d go and break my heart.”
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