I was sorely tempted to point out that her big toe was protruding far too much out of that opening for the sake of public decency, but I managed to hold my tongue. I have something close to a phobia when being faced with people's toes looking as though they are about to clamber over and out of their shoes. Too small people! Too small. Can't you see it? Your toes are supposed to stay within the perimeter of the edge of the shoe, within it I say. Not extend beyond it.
Anyway, I digress. I did however ask her if she planned on wearing the shoes with tights, because that might affect her choice. "Hell yes," she responded, "I don't plan on shaving my legs until spring!"
An interesting if somewhat unexpected reply, not to mention the accompanying unpleasant graphic image it conjured.
Then one of the young shop assistants enthusiastically chimed in, "I agree! My legs are in a real mess. My boyfriend looks at me as if to say, "Please do something about that hair?!', and I'm like, 'Don't you give me that look!' "
Big toed woman heartily agreed and said her husband wouldn't even notice if she shaved her legs or not.
Then the conversation moved to pajamas versus lingerie etc. I know right? The things women talk about when they are buying shoes.
I decided to put in my two cents worth :
Me: But don't you believe in keeping things fresh?
Her: Fresh? Are you being serious? (She asked me this as though what I had said was genuinely alien.)
Her, again: You keep things fresh? (Same incredulous expression.)
Me: Well, yes, I try to. I mean, it's good to right? You plan on staying with someone for the rest of your life, you've got to mix things up, look after yourself, and keep the person interested right?
Her: How long have you been together?
Me: Coming up for 6 years.
Her: Ah, well, I've been married for 16 years.
She said this last thing as though it explained everything, and as though I had a lot to learn about marriage. I had a brief mental image of myself 10 years on; Botox maybe, perhaps a double chin or two. Hopefully a summer rental in the South of France. But certainly not hairy legs and ill-fitting shoes, regardless of whether or not Roberto had stopped noticing. I mean, one has to have standards right?
The sales woman was trying to sell me on a pair of dangerously high shoes for my sisters wedding. And admittedly, they were beautiful, but unfortunately I couldn't actually take more than about 2 steps in them without falling over. And this was without my daughter on my hip, where she will mostly likely be for a large part of the day. Not to mention all the embarassing dance moves I will inflict on the other guests a bit later on in the evening. Those definitely require some steady footwear.
The sales person asured me that all I needed was practice. I assured her that while that may be true, what I did not need were any injuries incurred while doing said practice.
So I had my birthday yesterday. Another year older. I don't have anything profound to say I'm afraid, so so much for being a year wiser. I do hope in this coming year the economy improves, Obama manages to mend some of the damage Bush did so that the world becomes a safer place to move around in, and that I can pull my finger out and get some writing done and actually send it off. I need to start getting those rejection letters in before I can genuinely call myself an aspiring writer. PS: If anyone knows any good literary agents, please drop me a line.