Ok, hi. How are you? Dudes, I know, it’s been a while. I was on such a roll there for like, three weeks, and then it all kind of crashed down around me (lol the dramz) and now I’m having a hard time getting back in the swing of things. I don’t know! I’m trying! No, I’m not trying even a little, that is a lie. I’m VERY distracted doing adult life things, like looking at rugs on the internet (which do you like better, this one or this one?) (or this one?) (OR THIS ONE HALP IT’S AN ENDLESS BLACK HOLE) and stressing about what to get my in-laws for Christmas and also I have gotten embarrassingly into doing crossword puzzles, so that sexy hobby takes up a fat chunk of my life these days.
Also-also, I’ll admit it, I’ve been feeling a little blah about this whole blogging thing (blah-ging?), like what even is the point? I was feeling very self-defeatist, thinking this is so dumb and I’m not contributing anything worthwhile to society and wondering why I even to do this in the first place.
I was ready to just shut it all down (again with the dramz) when a friend of mine regaled me with a tale of dropping her Diva Cup on the floor of the public restroom in her workplace, telling me she instantly thought of me as she scrambled to retrieve it without causing too much of a scene and it was JUST what I needed to hear. That is why I do this. To offer other women solidarity and empowerment in the midst of their Diva Cup –related hijinks. And teach men what Diva Cups are. Look it up, bros! And thank your lucky stars for those Y chromosomes…being a human woman is a gory nightmare.
This blog is so worthwhile for society. The world needs me!!
So let’s go right on ahead and take a look at what’s been keeping it awkward lately, mainly exclusively These Boots:
Earlier this year I went on a bit of a rampage in search of the perfect bootie (I already found the perfect BOOTY and it’s attached to a one Mr. Hott) and had my eye on these babies from DSW, perfect knock-offs of the Sam Edelman Petty Boot which I adore. I had a pair of the Edelmans that I got on a super duper discount a few years ago but they were this weird like, tan color and I absolutely destroyed them which was sad because I loved them and they were so comfortable and so I decided I’d get a black pair but I can’t justify spending more than $100 on shoes – or anything – because I’m a cheapy cheapster, even though I know you should pay money for quality products or whatever.
What a long and ultimately very dull sentence!
I thought I’d hit the jackpot with these store brand rip-offs, priced at just $60, minus a 10% off coupon. So I bought them, immediately ignoring any red flags from the website comment section, such as this one:
“The shoes are the most uncomfortable shoe I'vr worn. it hits a little below the ankle and there's a lot of space in between. Therefore, as I walk, the top keeps hitting the bone of ankle area. It hurts as I walked, whether going up or down the stairs, walking straight ahead, it's too painful to wear. Unfortunately i am unable to return this shoe since I've worn them. BUT DO NOT BUY IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR ANKLE TO SUFFER!"
How's THAT for drama, am I right folks? Most of the other commenters seemed to love them and the 1.8 seconds I had them on in the store they were GREAT so I threw away all the packaging and sprayed them with leather protector and hit the goddamn town. By which I meant “went to work” because I’m a dull grown-up.
I had made it no further than 8 steps from my home when I realized that I, like Gob Bluth, had made a huge mistake. The top portion of the boot was indeed jabbing into my ankle, causing instant blisters. Walking down the subway steps was pure torture and up them on the other side was basically waterboarding of the ankles and I was literally dripping blood.
I usually have a bunch of band-aids in my purse because, you know, I’m me and therefore constantly bleeding from somewhere, but I must have used them all up on other injuries because I could only find one floating around. I bandaged up one of the legs but still had to figure out what to do about the other gaping flesh wound for the remainder of my .7 mile trek to the office. So I concocted the genius idea to just shove a few tissues into my shoe to create a barrier which sort of worked but sort of not, the tissues just kind of flapped around and made things more uncomfortable and if you think walking into your workplace with a bunch of bloody rags poking out of your shoes would not draw attention well, you would be super-duper wrong.
I remained committed to the shoes (why), despite the pain, figuring I’d break them in and they wouldn’t be as painful when rubbing up against tights instead of bare legs and I was totally right on that front! The leather no longer causes me dire pain…so what more could go wrong?!?!
DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNN
Fast-forward to a few weeks later, another tragic walk from my home to the subway, once again sporting these shoes. Mind you this is a four block walk. A lot can happen in 3 minutes when you are me, I guess. So I have this weird way of walking where I think I step heel first sometimes? Also I’m always moving at about 300 miles / hour because I am maniac on the sidewalk and I often will step kind of jankily on the back of my foot – especially in a wedge or a high-heel – and trip up a little bit. This time I don’t know if the boots were not yet scuffed up enough or I stepped on a leaf or the sidewalk was wet or something. I don’t know what happened except one minute I was walking all like…
And then the next minute I was FLAT OUT on the sidewalk a little more like this:
But not quite as fluffy and cute.
I was totally fine and somehow managed not to rip my tights (#blessed) but was in total shock and just kind of sat there, mortified, while morning commuters streamed around me. Everyone was really friendly and rushed to assist, like, people on the other side of the street stopped as if to run over and save me which is really so nice and comforting but you know, save your concern for a real emergency, buddies. Nothing to see here!
And yet, I keep trying to make these boots work. They say tragedy and bad luck happens in threes so I’m just awaiting the final installment in this triumvirate of bootie embarrassment. Hopefully soon, I don’t know how much longer I can live with the stress of waiting!
And there here ya go! May these tales provide you with some levity in this scary week or, at the very least, give you a virtual fist-bump of solidarity as you’re tripping or bleeding or making it rain with feminine hygiene products. It’s all good.
Happy weekend, babes! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which means free pass to listen to the new Bieber album cuz that's prettyyyyy much all I'm up to these days. What a JAM.
Xx Liz Hott