Evil Footwear

As I tend to my bloody blister which was brought on by some idiotic desire to exhibit a slight sense of fashion with some sexy, yet excruciatingly painful, snakeskin heels, I recall an episode in "Sex in the City" when Carrie walked 80 blocks (or something ridiculous like that) in some strappy Manolo Blahniks stillettos. Bullllllshit, I say. In real life, she would have been rendered crippled at block number 12.

Today I chose to break in my new heels. After about 5 blocks, blisters were forming in full force. Tinges of pain continued to plague my feet another 10 blocks later. When I finally stopped and removed my lovely new shoe from my left foot to inspect the damage, a flap of skin stuck to the shoe and was ripped away from the wound. Mother of pearl, it was flippin' hurt city! AND a nasty graphic image. I must have been a sight as I hobbled unevenly down 21st Street, late for a meeting and dripping copious amounts of blood from my left heel. Having no bandaids or other first aid supplies on my person, I found an old receipt and transformed it into a makeshift bandage. It worked for about 10 minutes before the blood fully soaked the receipt and I had to whip out an old to-do list on a scrap of paper to replace the receipt. When I finally arrived at my meeting destination, I limped to the bathroom and covered my bloody heel with a wad of toilet paper. Such are the trials some of us stupid women go through with new shoes. God help me, I'm wearing flips flops to my next business meeting.