Shoe Addiction

Okay, look, here's the deal. I think it's time for me to make a confession here.

I have... a shoe addiction.

I have tried to change my ways, be more moderate in this area, but I just can't seem to break this addiction!

Maybe with some help, some group therapy, some peer-pressure incentive, I'll be able to get out of this habitual foot-wear offense.

You see, in my cedar-lined walk-in closet tossed under my bed and in the boot box by the front door, I have exactly 8 pairs of shoes. I know, right?! What kind of woman AM I?

EIGHT pairs? Yes, eight pairs.

Pair #1:

The boots. These boots were given to me 6 years ago for Christmas. ALL winter long, whenever I leave the house (except for church) I wear these boots. I wear them to the store, I wear them to school, to the gas station, to get the mail, and to hang up diapers on the line. They stay on the rug next to the door and I slip them on and off every. single. time. I come and go as long as there is snow on the ground, which happens to be nearly six months of the year.

Pair #2:

The black church boots. Bought on final clearance late spring a couple of years ago. I pretty much wear these to church all winter long. They're black. They go with virtually everything in my winter closet. I used to wear them sometimes to go shopping, but not since having to cart a baby around with me everywhere I go. I just don't see any sort of practicality in wearing high-heeled boots with jeans and a baby in the ergo clomping around in icy parking lots.

Pair #3:

The brown boots. Bought at a yard sale for less than $1. These only come out in the fall, really. They have absolutely no traction on the bottom at all, so I'd have to be stupid to wear them in any sort of inclement weather.

Pair #4:

The (phantom)black booties. Goodwill special! I'd wear these more often with jeans, but I can never find them. They're around here somewhere...

Pair #5:
The tennis shoes. These were given to me by someone who found them at the goodwill! Everyone must have a good pair of gym shoes for that in-between weather when the snow is melting and you realize just how heavy those winter boots that you've been wearing absolutely everywhere are. Of course, I also wear these to the actual gym, carrying them in a bag so I can pretend they are "indoor-only" shoes 'cause that's what the sign says I'm supposed to have for gym use. I'm pretty sure that is just so no one walks in off the streets with muddy, wet shoes and gets the equipment all wet, so I make sure they're dry and (mostly) clean before I hit the elliptical. I promise.

Pairs #6 & 7:

The black heels and the snakeskin stilletos. These should be totally self-explanatory to every woman out there. At least I have these two gems to pick me up when I realize how bad my addiction has gotten. And when I just need to feel like a girl.

Pair #8:

Okay. This is where it gets painful. I really don't want to admit ownership of these "shoes". But the first step in any recovery process is admitting that you have a problem.

My friends. I have a problem.

They're called Crocs.

I love my Crocs.

My Crocs go with everything. I wear my Crocs with jeans. I wear them with skirts. I wear them with shorts, and what's worse than all of that? I wear my Crocs... with socks.

That's right. With SOCKS!!!

*sigh*

I used to think Crocs were silly, and then when I was 9 months pregnant with baby #3 someone bought me my very first pair of Crocs. It took me about 10 seconds to fall in love, and about 10 minutes to start an obsession. It has now been nearly four years and a second pair of Crocs later and I have shunned nearly all else for footwear.

And where, might I ask, have all of you been? My dear friends who should have staged an intervention LONG ago?!

Because this, this is what the world thinks when I step out of my door and into the public eye:



Not only am I the proverbial (and probably deserving) butt of all the Croc jokes out there for wearing these in public, but they have other issues, let me tell you.

For instance, Crocs may have all the necessary equipment for maximum foot comfort, but they have zero traction. In fact, they have negative traction. You think I'm kidding? I tell you, I have hydroplaned on some amazingly miniscule droplets of water on my kitchen floor, flinging and flailing and wondering what in the world has gotten a hold of my feet and shot them in varying directions.

Not fun.

Hazardous, in fact.

It's just one of those things you have to watch out for when you're, say, carrying a baby or rushing to help a kid clean up a spilled glass of water.

So.

Now that I've made my confession, I'm hoping y'all will help me get back on the right track here. I need some better options for comfy, slip on footwear that is conducive to my fanatical-sock-wearing-ocd-self, are comfy, and completely unmickeymousish, thankyouverymuch. Did I mention comfy?

Okay, then.

Now, moving on with the rest of my resolutions to break free of my post-traumatic-winter-sydrome. Like plucking my eyebrows and pumicing those weird callouses on the tops of my Croc-wearing toes.

Yep, eww. There. I said it for you.