You have to understand, my dear and compassionate readers, that PeaceBang has been feeling old and huge and sloggy lately. She has a rash on her chest that she thinks she got from testing a new tanning product, or possibly from wearing itchy African beads. Her face has broken out into a bizarre rosacea situation as a result of having her hair colored today. She is just one big bundle of kvetch.
This is what the cartoon bubble over my head said today,
“Oy, my back is still sore… why did I schlep all that recycling out last night…I should have left it until next week.. oh, but I’ll be at the Festival of Homiletics all next week… what am I going to WEAR? My hotel is a long walk from all the events and all my footwear is CUTE and IMPRACTICAL… and I can’t wear SNEAKERS… now that I’m PeaceBang I can’t just schlump in in any old thing… I have to be put-together… and oh Lord, I wonder if my summer stuff is even going to FIT…”
It was a banner self-esteem day, I tell ya. I stopped by the Andrew Zona studio on my way to picking up dinner (who can COOK when you’re kvetching?) and asked the advice of a lovely aesthetician named Lorna who told me, by the way, not to ice my flare-up. She also told me that I should keep my make-up brushes off the vanity table because dust can be a big irritant to super-sensitive skin. So I pass that on to you, pigeons.
ANYWAY, you must regard me with the heart of compassion and forgiveness when I tell you that after looking and looking and looking over a period of months for cute, professionally appropriate sandals that I can walk a mile or so in, I finally broke down and got these:
They are frumpy. I know it. I accept it. And yet, on the scale of frumpiness they are pretty low, I’d say, and their comfort factor is so very high that it was worth the exchange to me. They look rather cute on. They are called “Lolita” by Dansko. Who are they kidding with that sexy name? Lolita who? Lolita Steinowitz of Boca Raton, maybe? Surely not THE Lolita of Nabakov’s novel?
So you can tease me if you want for totally going into Classic Frumpy Clergy Footwear. Bring on the sass. I can take it.
Because my feet won’t hurt while I’m at the Festival of Homiletics, and that’s all I care about right now. That, and Dove Mini-Dark Chocolate bars.