Dear Perky Little Red Shoes,
We simply cannot continue on like this. Something has just got to change.
When we first went out together, I was infatuated with you. Your tucks were beguiling. Your little buttons, so charming. You whispered sweet nothings into my ear of fashion promising that we’d be so stylin’ together.
Our first time out, you started rubbing me the wrong way. Such a blistering experience! The initial euphoria of being swept off my feet by you changed into dread the longer you held me in your clutches. I was so glad when you finally took me home so we could part ways and I could seek refuge in the arms of my fuzzy, purple slipper socks.
I know that you think you are the little darling of my shoe collection. That was true. At first. But, the longer our relationship continues, the less of a darling you are to me.
I have asked you to change your pain creating ways. And you have. I thank you for that. But there is more. I know I shouldn’t expect you to change; I should accept you the way you are. But that is so difficult.
I have worn you with cheap stockings from a store whose name I shan’t mention because family members get so enraged when they know I shop there. At the end of the day, I have a hole in the toe of my right sock. And in my left one. I want you to know that I chew off my toenails on a regular basis so long toenails aren’t the cause of the holes.
I have worn you with knee high nylon stockings. Not only did I end up with gargantuan sized holes in the toes, but also distressingly beautiful blisters on my feet.
Today, I wore you with trouser socks purchased from a prominent chain store in the mall. By noon, I had a hole in my right stocking. By evening, I had a hole in the left one.
Stop it. Just stop it. Right now!
Do you know how expensive this is getting? Four dollars here. Six dollars there. Here a little, there a little — that money adds up. I might have to sell off my firstborn to keep me in stockings. His wife just might object to that.
Let me repeat myself: something has got to change. It’s either you or me, baby, and since I’m the boss, it’s gonna be you.
Sincerely,
Ms. Red Shoe Wearer