![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Very Important Purchase
Jun. 8th, 2005 07:42 pmToday, I don't know what happened. I ate my turkey sandwich quickly so I could go to Target to pick up some things--cat food, dog treats, down blankets on clearance (SCORE!)--and there I was walking, pushing my little buggy, thinking of MY NEW DESK FORGIVE ME IF I GLOAT I NOW HAVE A DESK BECAUSE AS BOW POINTED OUT I AM A ROCKSTAR AND ROCKSTARS MUST HAVE L-SHAPED GUNMETAL-AND-CHERRY DESKS OKAY I HAVE FORGOTTEN WHAT IT WAS I WAS TALKING ABOUT, and I heard my name being called, and I searched over the store and finally zeroed in on the shoe department and realized my name was being called by the world's girliest pair of shoes actually constructed for adults: a pair of pink leather ballerina flats. With tiny bows. And a cutout sunburst pattern.
I wasn't going to get them, I really wasn't. PINK SHOES. I mean, yeah, I love pink with a passion that in a thirty-five-year-old woman is probably very misguided indeed. But PINK SHOES. I don't think I have owned PINK SHOES, shoes entirely unusable in an actual ballet class, since I was old enough to go to school. Certainly not since I was old enough to be briefly convinced by Satan that pink does not look good on redheads (for the record, this is a filthy lie). How often will I be able to wear PINK SHOES? I thought. Not very often, I answered myself. But then, I remembered that I just bought a little flowery skirt that will go nicely, and then, I saw that the PINK SHOES were half price, and I don't know, the next thing I knew I was leaving the store with them.
I still can't explain what the shoes (they are pink, did I mention that? With little bows!) are doing on my bed right now. But I will tell you this: I love these shoes, and as if to demonstrate her wholehearted approval, Olive the Cat has been positively wallowing on them, rolling around on them as if they were made of catnip, and I know this is probably because they smell like the Snausages that were sharing the bag with the shoebox (and Olive loves her some stinky dog treats) but I am choosing to believe that it is just the universe's way of telling me that every grown up lady needs a pair of little pink girly flats to wear with her little pink girly skirt.
Thank you, universe. For once, I am wholly with you.
( ETA: Thank God for digital cameras! )
I wasn't going to get them, I really wasn't. PINK SHOES. I mean, yeah, I love pink with a passion that in a thirty-five-year-old woman is probably very misguided indeed. But PINK SHOES. I don't think I have owned PINK SHOES, shoes entirely unusable in an actual ballet class, since I was old enough to go to school. Certainly not since I was old enough to be briefly convinced by Satan that pink does not look good on redheads (for the record, this is a filthy lie). How often will I be able to wear PINK SHOES? I thought. Not very often, I answered myself. But then, I remembered that I just bought a little flowery skirt that will go nicely, and then, I saw that the PINK SHOES were half price, and I don't know, the next thing I knew I was leaving the store with them.
I still can't explain what the shoes (they are pink, did I mention that? With little bows!) are doing on my bed right now. But I will tell you this: I love these shoes, and as if to demonstrate her wholehearted approval, Olive the Cat has been positively wallowing on them, rolling around on them as if they were made of catnip, and I know this is probably because they smell like the Snausages that were sharing the bag with the shoebox (and Olive loves her some stinky dog treats) but I am choosing to believe that it is just the universe's way of telling me that every grown up lady needs a pair of little pink girly flats to wear with her little pink girly skirt.
Thank you, universe. For once, I am wholly with you.
( ETA: Thank God for digital cameras! )
