Thursday, August 20, 2009

girlfriend shoes vs wife shoes

Shoes.
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There are afew types of shoes.
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One of which is the Girlfriend Shoes.
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There’s also the Wife shoes.
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This is an example of the Girlfriend Shoes. It’s high-fashion. Always a 3 inch minimum. Probably suede in fuschia (translation: it’s not worried about pediatric purge or Bolognese stain from a spurting pot over the stove) with say… some bling! or some reptile skin heel. Expensive of course… the cost of a houseman take-home-pay. Flashy and never unkempt. It’s bold and lives for the now: “You only live once!” “You could die tomorrow!” “Why wait?” The label on the sole/heel spells Louboutin, Choo or Blahnik . It’s carefree, sexy, independent and out all night. Favourite Friday night activity: clubbing, drinks with other heels.

The Wife Shoes on the other hand. It’s safe. Borderline frumpy (oops!). Could come with an orthopaedic insole (WTF). Usually canvas or umm… rubbery-plastic (those stuff Crocs are made of… eh I’m not dissing Crocs ah ‘cos they’re my life.. I’m just talking bout the material). It can try to be a little more snazzy by adding like, I dunno, a nice logo buckle or something but it’ll only make Girlfriend Shoes go “Umm… right. Whatever..” Starts conversations with the word ‘we’. Thinks about financial planning, insurance, mortgage… well weird boring stuff you get in Newsweek / Money Matters. Reads Martha Stewart books/magazines/website. Favourite Friday night activity: scrapping (it means doing up the scrapbook... cool new term made up by desperate housewives, literally), curling on the couch watching the tele with husband.

I’ve been popping more Mefenemic Acids than usual these few days. I keep getting headaches and my mood sure needs abit of a pick-me-up. A capsule of Euphoria please! Yesterday I went home ‘cos it’s my day-off. I updated the parentals about the progress of this and that and then the topic came to real estate. I’ve been urging them to look around for a place for me and Guy to settle down. We have decided to settle near my parents ‘cos:


1. I need to be home in the CITY. Anymore village or village-disguising-to-be-a-town and I will spontaneously combust.
2. If he gets posted outstation and I’m feeling super vulnerable (or horrors feeling needy when I’m preggers!!), I can easily cycle (on my pink Hello Kitty bike) or skip to the parentals and be reminded of my princess status.
3. When we go out of town, parentals can go check on the place. My shotglass collection could be worth quite abit who knows! We’ll never know ‘till I’m 60!

I don’t know how but our casual chit-chat started turning serious. Real-estate is NOT princess talk and any conversation that does not involve the words: cute, buy, vuitton is not the kinda conversation I wanna be involved in. Dddy became somewhat vicious and all facts-of-life-ish. He started jack-hammering about mortgage and downpayment. He lost me at ‘loan’ or was it ‘savings’ and my morale started spiraling downhill and I could feel a Morakot migraine building up! I’m not prepared for all these responsibilities. It’s, like, I barely walked in the Girlfriend Shoes and now my feet are shoved into Wife Shoes. I didn’t know what to think or say so I went quietly to the bathroom and puked. Yup I vomited all my stress out. It felt better but it also reflected on how freakin’ scared I was. I was not ready to embark into the journey of Becoming A Queen. I like being a princess. I just broke into my fuschia suedes. Being an adult sucks. I don’t want to grow up. I want to be a Toys ‘R’ Us kid. I want Guy and I to just live in a Mattel playhouse forever. Can’t that happen?? I guess not. What with our combined government servant peanut pays… I have to admit parting with insensible frivolities to substitute a tiny, simple home is not an easy change for me to come to terms with so easily. Guy has been a sweetheart and is so worried ‘bout me not being able to deal with so much sacrifice and change that he made it a point to constantly reassure me we’ll find a way to get through things. Bless him. I guess I really am growing up and with love comes responsibilities. It’s just that so much is happening in such a short time.

How did you cope goin' from Girlfriend Shoes to Wife Shoes? Did you have a footwear stroke?

Please tell...


Disclaimer: images courtesy of Hush Puppies , Christian Louboutin

2 comments:

Baby said...

i'm always wife's shoes type

shelbybaby said...

baby: *giggle* got any tips for me to get used to d wife shoes?

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