I had a couple of free hours the other week so, like many people with a little extra spare time, I spent the time doing one of my favorite activities. By “many people” I mean women. And by “favorite activity,” I mean shopping.
Wanting to get the most out of the experience, I drove right on past the strip mall shopping center thinking that there weren’t enough stores there for my browsing pleasure. Instead, I headed directly to the Polaris mall.
Now the only flaw with spontaneous mall shopping is questionable footwear. I was wearing a pair of sandals that were both cute and comfortable. But sandals that are perfectly comfortable walking around the office may not necessarily be good for a two hour trek through the mall.
By the time I had traipsed from Macy’s to JC Penney, those cute sandals had rubbed against the sides of my feet until angry red blisters had formed. But rather than concede defeat and head for the exit, I did what any determined shopper in just such a situation would do – I bought another pair of shoes.
Because shoe shopping was not specifically on my agenda, I ducked into a bargain store and bought a cheap pair of flip-flops thinking I could get away with it. Ha! Blisters quickly formed between my toes, which attested to the fact that cheap flip-flops are not an alternative to sensible “mall-walking” shoes.
So I heaved a sigh, took off the flip-flops, put my old sandals back on and gingerly hobbled out of the mall.
When will we women learn?
I must admit that men have the right idea. I know men who, for the most part, can survive with a total of four pair of shoes. They own some sort of running shoes, a pair of hard-soled shoes for all events in which their Nikes would not be appropriate, a pair of sandals to wear the entire summer and with any ensemble and, finally, a pair of boots for the winter when the snow reaches their kneecaps.
I, on the other hand, have bins full of shoes. I get glassy-eyed inside the hallowed entrance of DSW. At last count, I had twenty-three pair of black shoes. Now why is it necessary for one woman to own twenty-three pair of black shoes? Truthfully, I don’t know, but I was willing to justify the number with a lengthy discourse on different styles and heel heights. That is, until I went home after my painful shopping excursion, plastered bandages on my blisters and dug through those bins searching for a comfortable pair of shoes. And I couldn’t find any. Sigh.
On a brighter note, I see another trip to DSW in my near future. But this time, I’ll bypass the cute sandals and head for the sensible mall-walking shoe section.
Or…at least I’ll try!