Walk a Mile in My Shoes…and then eat them

These are my shoes.

I’ve had them since 6th grade. That’s right. 6th grade. And I wear them all the time. When I was in middle school and my mom bought them for me, I thought they were hideous. And now – 14 YEARS LATER – I still think they are hideous, but I’ve learned to love them. For one thing, they are comfortable. Although since I’ve become pregnant, my feet seem to have grown a bit and so they have gotten a little tight. But barring the child-bearing thing, they are comfy cozy. And while they look pretty crappy on their own, they look really great with a good pair of jeans. Rugged and boot-like, but lift the pants leg a little and – surprise! They’re not actually boots! How’d you like that?!? It still doesn’t make them fashionable, but it makes them my favorite.

And its not like in 14 years I haven’t tried to replace them. I’ve got a closet full of shoes (two closets and a Rubbermaid tub, actually). Every boot rack I pass I try to find a pair to replace my faux-boots. But in 14 years, I have yet to find anything even close. Once, I even tried on a pair of brown Crocs to see if maybe it was the style I liked, but whoa was that a mistake…

So, imagine how I felt when I came home from work today to find this:

And this:

That’s right. Molly ate my favorite pair of shoes from 6th grade. And if it weren’t for Chris, Molly would be living on the streets right now.

With my brown faux boots up her ass.

6 Comments

Ginny

January 8, 2009 at 8:05 am Reply

Hahaha… even Molly questioned your fashion sense.

(Grand)Dad

January 8, 2009 at 9:52 am Reply

I never liked those shoes, I told your Mother when she got them 14 years ago I didn’t like them. When you moved away to Florida State I tried to hide them so you would forget them, but alas you found them, I thought when Chris married you that he would not allow them to move to Conn. with you, but he did. When you got pregnant I thought you would have matured to the point that you would be ashamed to wear them out in public, but there they were on your feet when we came up at Thanksgiving.

Good Dog, Molly.(heh, heh, heh, heh)