Not Walking in Style

Yesterday Luna (Doggie of Destruction) jumped and ripped a hole in my favorite dog-walking pants. I went to the nearest clothing store to try to replace them.

I don’t know how many pairs I tried on, but none of them fit. They were too long, too short, too saddle-baggy, too muffin-toppy. Too wandering-up-the-whosits, too sliding-down-the-whatsits. A bit tent-flappish here, a bit vacuum-packish there. I’m a little too old to be wearing a belt down around my thighs, a little too young to wear one just under the armpits.

Finally, I found one pair that fit perfectly. They fit and they looked awesome. They fit, looked awesome, and were ridiculously cheap. They fit, looked awesome, were dirt cheap, and were THE most UNbelievably itchy things ever. They itched like a burlap sack drenched in Mountain Dew, rolled in the sand and worn on a hot day at a country church. I gave up.

I strolled over to the shoe rack. Soon enough the temperature will be in triple digits, and I need a pair of sandals. The kind you can actually walk in, not the kind that looks cute when you kick them off by the pool. Last year I made the mistake of buying a pair without a strap in the back, because that’s all they make anymore. Am I the only one sick of mules? You have to grip those things with your toes. There’s nothing else keeping them on your feet. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you continuously clench your toes, you tend to clench other parts of your body, too. Besides, every time I want to relax my toes for half a second, I end up flinging a shoe across the room.

I finally found sandals that were pretty comfy, but the color was ugly. I searched around and found the very same pair in a nicer color, only they cost two dollars more. I thought it was funny that you could save a couple bucks if you were willing to settle for the ones that were the color of puke. I decided they weren’t really that comfy, anyway.

And I decided I hate clothes shopping.