I Admit Defeat

Last night, the Mister and I were running a quick errand to the drug store to pick up the Oldest child's allergy prescription. I grabbed a pair of shoes out of the closet, being kind of in a hurry because it was already eight pm and she had gone all day without her meds. The shoes I grabbed have a history.

This bad pic doesn't do them justice. They're really cute.

First of all, the Oldest child picked them out as part of her 2012 Back to School trousseau. I just happened to think that they were the cutest pair of wedges and sort of commandeered them for myself. Turns out that she was pretty okay with that because she didn't like the heel on them. She's selfconscience  about her height (she's 5'7") and doesn't like to wear shoes that make her even taller. Tall, thin, blonde. Yeah. She has sooooo much to complain about, lol.

I wear these shoes with all sorts of outfits because they're a neutral color and go with lots of my neutral colored clothes.

Remember my post about the 2012 Miramar Air Show? I shared my humiliation about falling on my ass in front of dozens of spectators. I was wearing the same wedges that I was wearing tonight to the drug store when I stepped on a crack in the sidewalk next to the car and fell on my ass...AGAIN. Luckily, this time around it was dark and we were the only ones on the street. I'm done. Those shoes have kicked my ass, figuratively, literally and I'm done wearing them. I've fallen in them twice and have almost fallen in them countless times. I can walk in heels. I have high heeled platforms with a bigger heel than these shoes. There's just something about them that whenever I step on something uneven or a rock, the shoe twists and I lose my balance.

My neck and shoulder feel like I have whiplash and my ankle and wrist are all sore this morning from where I tried to catch myself from falling. Surprisingly, my tailbone, which I landed on, doesn't hurt at all. Done. Done, done, done wearing those shoes. They're trying to kill me.