Boat Shoes, Gandma Shoes, or No Shoes?

What should I buy?

What did Mom and Dad give me for Easter instead of candy? . . . They gave me exactly what I asked for: a gift certificate! Now, some would argue that this is cheating, asking for a gift card so I could buy clothes, but nowhere in my New Year’s resolution does it say that I cannot accept gifts. If it did, I would be plunging into frozen water right now.

So, you are probably thinking that I skipped the queenly Easter feast my mother had prepared and sped to JcPenny and immediately eliminated that $25 gift to a balance of nada. Nope, I actually didn’t step inside the store until three weeks later after hanging out with my friend Carolyn one night at a sushi restaurant downtown for Brady’s birthday.

“Do you see those?” I asked, Jon, pointing toward Carolyn.

“See what?” he asked.

I just about yanked his arm off, trying to pull him around the birthday crowd, so he could get a better view. “Those are the shoes I want. Carolyn has them on.”

“Oh,” he said. (Obviously, he wasn’t excited about them as I was.)

Carolyn had on the cutest pair of tan boat shoes.  They were of the professional, trendy, yet laid back flavor—translation, they would be appropriate to wear to work, and I was tired of all my same old same old boring flats that stunk like something fierce. No matter how much powder I shake in them, they still smell like something died in them. And when you can smell your own feet, you are wondering if others can too. Can you, smell my feet that is?

“Where did you get those? Please tell me JcPenny,” I begged her.

“No, Famous Footwear.”

Of course, that would make this too easy. However, I wasn’t going to give up hope. Perhaps, I thought, I could find something similar there. Women always have this thought and the turnout is always the same: we don’t want similar; we want the exact one.  We just try and convince ourselves that similar is a synonym for same. It’s not.

What did I find at JcPenny? I didn’t even find anything that remotely fell into the “s-sounding” category, not unless I wanted Velcro cream shoes similar to my grandma’s. (I love you, Grandma, but I do want to get married someday, and if a man saw me walking around in those, he’d run away and probably in a cute pair of boat shoes.)

Disappointed, I didn’t even roam around the rest of the store, browsing as I usually did. I just walked out. I didn’t want to waste $25 dollars on something I wasn’t obsessed with. After all, how many opportunities would I get to feed my clothing addiction? I have over eight months to go. . . . Carolyn’s shoes are super cute though!

Do These Pants Make me Look Fat or Phat?

Yes, I’m checking myself out in my new pants.

Ok, you should all be answering “phat” for that question because these new charcoal grey wide-leg trousers have become my favorite pair of dress pants to sport to work.

Now, I know you are probably wondering; where did I get them? I went to a new store in Waupun, WI. I have visited it many times, but this was the first time I walked out with a bundle—literally—a ginormous Kohl’s shopping bag full.  Did I give into my clothing temptation? No, I gave into Stefanie, my best friend, or I guess, I should really say, she gave into me. Probably because of my constant use of the word “suck”: “Not buying any clothes sucks.” “Why do all the new spring clothes have to be so cute; this sucks.” “You suck.” (You being every single woman I walk buy that has on a pair of not-even-scuffed-yet new shoes.) Did I mention that this New Year’s resolution sucks?

For almost an hour, I tried on shirt after shirt, pant after pant, and dress after dress from Stefanie’s give-away pile to Goodwill. No way were her cute clothes going to someone who really needed it! I needed it.

Some of my favorite picks were my new pants of course, a red Puma track jacket (This is Stef’s favorite too.), a Brewers jersey (I’m ready for some serious tailgating this summer now.), and underwear (Yes, you read that last part right—underwear. Now, don’t get all grossed out. They were brand new and cute to boot.)

What do you think?

Every time I pull something new from the bag and wear it, Jon gets all excited; he thinks I gave in and purchased something, so I would lose the bet and have to jump into freezing cold water for the Polar Plunge, but of course, I have way more will power and way more friends to share clothing with that he doesn’t even know of.  He better start preparing for that cliff dive because this is one clothing bet he will lose.

Bring it on Jimmy Choo I can Sew Too!

Mending my Moccasin

Jimmy Choo you design beautiful foot-stopping shoes, from sleek, savvy pumps, brilliant, bold wedges, sinister, sexy sandals, to flirty, focused flats, but can you save a moccasin from a near death experience? No? Well, I can, and in less than five minutes, and no, I didn’t need an app either.

With a small spool of tan thread, I discovered in my bathroom cupboard in a travel kit that I don’t remember receiving, I sat on my toilet and performed emergency surgery on my punctured moccasin last week.  I attempted to start the first stitch on the inside so you couldn’t see the knot. I tried several times, bending the moccasin this way and that, trying to get the needle to the hole in the toe, but it just wasn’t going to happen—my hands, which are small, were too big, so I had to make do with the knot being on the outside instead of in. No one would be examining my job beneath a microscope anyway, and if they did, I would say, “You try going a year without buying new clothes and see what measures you’re willing to take. I bet you will be sewing your underwear.” I looped the peephole closed multiple times like any good doctor would and then a couple more just to make sure the stitch wouldn’t separate again, and it would have to make another trip to the hospital (aka my bathroom).

I sported the recovering moccasin immediately at work—no R&R for that shoe. “It looks great!” . . . “You sewed that?” . . . “Nice job!” were just some of the compliments we (my shoe and me) received from my colleagues.

May sound silly but I was pretty proud of myself. I’m not going to get any big award or start marketing mended moccasins, but I am going to attempt to fix every piece of article of clothing on the verge of death by my overuse–with the exception of underwear. 🙂