Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Spicy Feet

Have you ever been sitting around listening to music and feeling sort of sad and depressed when your iPod switches from Alison Krauss to Buckwheat Zydeco and suddenly you're in a great mood? No? Never? Well, let me tell you, it really makes you think about how what is outside of you affects what is inside of you. Anyone who hangs around Slothville with any kind of regularity knows that I have a gargantuan shoe addiction. In the past two weeks I have bought seven pairs of way-over-my-budget shoes. I'm ready for spring! So you will be shocked, I'm sure, when I tell you that the thing that affects my mood even more than my music is my footwear. If I'm wearing my pastel-striped galoshes, I feel a little goofy and vulnerable. If I'm wearing my Doc Martens, I feel all tough and on-the-go. If I'm wearing my orange patent leather sling-back heels, I feel sort of exotic and sly. The effect is total. Unless I slip off a curb and fall on my ass, I will be feeling exotic and sly all day long. As soon as I take them off, though, WHAM. I'm back to being plain ol' Sloth with her plain ol' feet. Today I am wearing my super-sexy, dark red, kitten heel boots. Not only that, I'm wearing my long, fitted leather coat and a ton of lip gloss. I'm sex in heels. The sex-in-heels look can be a bit destructive in that it tends to make me stomp around, hips akimbo, in my best supermodel walk which does not allow for waiting for a walk light, moving aside to let people pass, or slowing down for any reason, even when the person in front of me is hobbling through the snow with a cane. Poor lady almost got mowed down by a shiny-lipped train this morning. Trust me, people. If you ever need a pick me up, just throw on a pair of shoes that you know will make you feel like a hot tamale and go for a walk. I'd like to think this applies to men too, but I may just be talking to the ladies here.

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