So today I went to the mall (yippee) and tried on many many (many) pretty pairs of shoes in the hope of finding some that could really capture the glory of my size 10 feet. It was so much fun that ten minutes in, I was stringing together those little nylon footies to create a beautiful noose in order to hang myself from a light fixture. Courtesy of some purple four inch stilettos (which I actually ran from), my feet definitely came to appreciate today just how lucky they are. No squeezing, binding, or contorting for these monsters, instead they get to live out their days in canvas and rubber bliss. Prior to today, they had expressed an interest in leaving home. I’m guessing it was due to the number of times I had dropped something on them, walked into the bed frame, or karate-kicked a small child. I’m confident now, though, that when I wake up tomorrow morning, they’ll be right where I left them.

Shopping today, it took me a few minutes but I did finally find a couple of pairs that could work. I gave them to the salesman, who went back into his lair to get the right size. Twenty minutes later, by which time I had given him up as another unfortunate victim of a shoe avalanche, he came out and informed me that they only had those styles in sizes 7 and 8. Interestingly, he brought the sizes 7 and 8 with him, which was either his way of producing evidence regarding the limited selection or his way of telling me that if I was willing to cut off a couple of toes, I could probably squeeze into them. I gave myself a few minutes to contemplate life with eight toes but then decided that it was probably better to just go to another store– especially given the fact that the only reason I was looking for shoes was for my cousin’s wedding and frankly, if my prayers are answered and there’s an affair or death, it would be a waste of two perfectly good toes.

Four hundred and fifty shoes later, I finally found a pair. At this point, I’m not sure if they’re the right color or even if I can walk in them. It’s also very possible that they were designed by elves/ for elves, but the good news is that the salesman thought they looked great. The two of us subsequently shared a celebratory round from his flask before I left to go catch the F train. Strangely, as the doors of the train opened, I half expected to see those purple stilettos, waiting on the seat for me.