mickey d's ain't got nothin on me
a few weeks ago, i made a journey to REI to buy some new hiking shoes. they had a pair on sale for like half price and i'd been hiking pretty frequently, so i thought it'd be a good purchase. little did i know that i would make a life changing discovery in the process.
normally i don't like the assistance of salespeople, especially in the footwear department, other than the obligatory "can you get me a 7 in this?" kind of interaction. if they'd let me, i'd journey back to the storeroom myself and fetch my little magic box of hiking shoes. i guess that explains why i love buying shoes at target - that and the fact that shoes cost $10 a pair there. but i digress. so the helpful footwear salesman offers help set me up with some quality insoles since i plan to take the new kicks on a long(er) expedition with my sister this summer. i had to remove my socks and shoes and roll up my jeans so that he could inspect the shape of my feet. i don't know why, but i just find that entire process uncomfortably intimate and well, just uncomfortable. my friends have always told me that i have great feet, but something about a total stranger getting down and dirty with my toe jam is just icky. (read: i don't really have toe jam, but there is this underlying fear that it will have suddenly developed upon entering the store.) also, i hadn't shaved in a like a week, so i looked like a wild mountain woman. but hey, it's REI and that's kosher with them.
anyhow, mr. REI kneels down and begins the thorough assessment of my feet. after like 5 seconds he proclaims my feet to be perfect. apparently i have the kind of arches that would have made the romans cry. i have to say that it was nice to hear a licensed (okay, probally not, but a girl can pretend) professional tell you that some physical feature of yours is without fault, even if it just my feet. but aside from that, what does this mean to me? it means that i have been thoroughly neglecting my feet for my entire life. he stuffed some insoles in my hiking shoes, and i tell you my friends, it was like walking on flowers or clouds or babies' bottoms or something equally soft and fluffy. i had never known that my feet could feel so good. of course i by no means intend to suggest that i have stopped neglecting my feet; i still sport my completely unsupportive flip flops every chance i get. but at least now i get to feel bad about it.
normally i don't like the assistance of salespeople, especially in the footwear department, other than the obligatory "can you get me a 7 in this?" kind of interaction. if they'd let me, i'd journey back to the storeroom myself and fetch my little magic box of hiking shoes. i guess that explains why i love buying shoes at target - that and the fact that shoes cost $10 a pair there. but i digress. so the helpful footwear salesman offers help set me up with some quality insoles since i plan to take the new kicks on a long(er) expedition with my sister this summer. i had to remove my socks and shoes and roll up my jeans so that he could inspect the shape of my feet. i don't know why, but i just find that entire process uncomfortably intimate and well, just uncomfortable. my friends have always told me that i have great feet, but something about a total stranger getting down and dirty with my toe jam is just icky. (read: i don't really have toe jam, but there is this underlying fear that it will have suddenly developed upon entering the store.) also, i hadn't shaved in a like a week, so i looked like a wild mountain woman. but hey, it's REI and that's kosher with them.
anyhow, mr. REI kneels down and begins the thorough assessment of my feet. after like 5 seconds he proclaims my feet to be perfect. apparently i have the kind of arches that would have made the romans cry. i have to say that it was nice to hear a licensed (okay, probally not, but a girl can pretend) professional tell you that some physical feature of yours is without fault, even if it just my feet. but aside from that, what does this mean to me? it means that i have been thoroughly neglecting my feet for my entire life. he stuffed some insoles in my hiking shoes, and i tell you my friends, it was like walking on flowers or clouds or babies' bottoms or something equally soft and fluffy. i had never known that my feet could feel so good. of course i by no means intend to suggest that i have stopped neglecting my feet; i still sport my completely unsupportive flip flops every chance i get. but at least now i get to feel bad about it.
1 Comments:
a few years ago i went to New Balance to buy some running shoes.
not only did the sales guy force me to realize that my feet are huge (and properly fit in a shoe 1.5 sizes higher than i usually buy!!) but he also told me that i have DUCK FEET.
this means narrow ankles and wide toe bridge or something. i asked him if he actually wanted some damn commission.
needless to say, my life was then changed as well. since then i cant look at Daffy the same way.
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Diane, at 12:12 PM
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