What is this, you say? That a blog lover and grammar/literary lover has misspelled a simple word? In her title, no less?
Don’t fret, I have a point.
My husband is the very greatest. I have enormous feet. You have heard them here before, but how do these tie together?
For the Bye-Week, my bubs and I went to NYC. What is NYC without a stroll in Central Park? And what is a stroll in NYC in the fall without a great pair of boots? (Is it all coming together yet?)
I tend to pack very impractically. Being the stylist I am, I always think I have done an incredible job laying out the weeks clothing, only to find seventeen shirts, sixty pairs of underwear, shoes for opposing seasons and a skirt or something. I never get better. For this particular trip, I got a great pair of boots. They had the bones for something wonderful and I was sure they would accompany my feet in countless adventures. Out of pure excitement, I wore them to my hair appointment the day before our trip.
Can I please tell you, I got blisters just from crossing my legs in them.
They were too small- a very familiar and accepted dilemma for my feet, as I often put them through torture just to compliment my outfit, but I had a plan and refused to sway from it. The shoes would be worn to New York and that was that.
…The only problem with “that” were the blisters on my feet from the previous day. Too small shoes+blisters= a pain I’m guessing is somewhere between slamming your hand in a car door and child birth.
My husband on the other hand almost always wears sneakers. Cozy, comfy, orthodics in tow…he never puts style over comfort. Ever. Luckily, he is only two sizes larger than me.
The story should be clear now, but just to type it out for the heck of it, my love switched shoes with me for the remaining two hours in central park.
You read it correctly. I ended up wearing sneakers that made my feet cry tears of joy, “what is this bliss we feel?! Extra room in the toe, and on the sides?!? What have we done to deserve this??” …and his feet cried tears of confusion. “what is this torture we feel? No room in the toe, or on the sides? What did we do do deserve this?”