Do you ever have one of those days that makes you think "Why does the world hate me?", and all you want to do is curl up in a cozy little ball, watch Amanda Bynes movies and inhale a jar of peanut butter (not that I've ever done that, of course...)
Today is one of those days for me. Well, only half-a-jar-of-peanut-butter day, but it was still pretty crappy. (Don't judge me. It was dark chocolate peanut butter! Who can resist dark chocolate peanut butter?)
I'm just exhausted and swamped with school work. So swamped in fact, that I barely have time to eat properly during the day (for example, the peanut butter incident). But what better (and calorie-free) way to cheer me up than to go shoe shopping! Yes, I get to go shoe shopping tomorrow and I am pumped!
The thought of shoe shopping has me so excited that I was reminded of a shoe related story I thought I would share with you.
So each Christmas it's kind of become tradition that my little brother and I are allowed to ask for one (semi) splurge item from our parents. We get small gifts and stocking stuffers on the side, but it's all about that one thing you
So this past Christmas, I asked for new boots. But not just any boots, oh no. These were $300, quality leather, riding-style boots from Roots that scream authenticity, candadien-ness, and all around gorgeousness.
There was one slight problem. Oh, it wasn't that I didn't get them. My mom even loved them so much, she accidentally ordered two pairs and they just happened to be exactly her size. So yeah, we're twinsies now. Or, at least we would have been, if I could wear mine!
You see, these boots had one slight, itsy-bitsy problem: they are almost knee length and don't have a zipper. Yup. You're just supposed to pull them on or something. The next part is technically my problem (or genetics) but apparently my right foot is a little bit bigger than the left, which makes it extremely difficult to pull my almost-knee-length-three-hundred-dollar-drop-dead-gorgeous boots on. It literally took me a full 5 minutes to put my boots on each morning!
Then, the unthinkable happened: the boots gave me blisters! Painful blisters that hurt so bad each step, that I couldn't even wear them for a while. But, I am nothing if not stubborn and I would not let these boots win! (Especially considering how expensive they were). I stuck cotton pads and band-aids on the backs of my ankles in hopes that this would solve the problem. But alas, it was not so. Each time I had to pull the boots on, they pushed the band-aids off the blisters!
So for quite some period of time I could not wear the boots. Until I came up with the most briliant-est, simplest problem solver ever! The shoe horn! (A.K.A. The most genus invention in the world). Now I can slide my foot right into the boots (even my right one) and the band-aids don't get pushed off. Sheer genius. Plus, it now only takes me 56.1 seconds to put my boots on (yup, I timed myself).
So, moral of the story is. Roots should put a warning label on their boots. Caution: Shoe Horn Necessary.