An Undignified Whine

I hate shopping, in general. To me, online shopping is far superior because you start with an idea of what you want, invoke a few search engines, find what you were looking for, click a few buttons and you're done. Shopping with an actual shop, on the other hand, is a miserable excuse for every step of the above.

I needed new shoes. This is because, in general, I play my Guy card and don't care about shoes for the vast majority of my life. I owned three four pairs of shoes, one of which is nice, [ETA: one of which is a pair of Tevas,] and the other two of which were seasonally functional. The warm-weather shoes, in particular, were a pair of laced loafers (?) which I got three or four years ago at Payless for $10. Maybe five years ago. I don't care enough to remember.

The cold-weather shoes were a pair of sneaker-like boots I found online for cheap. Because I don't care about shoes.

But the trouble with not caring about shoes is that you wind up with shoes you don't care about. The tan Payless cheapies aren't much more than overglorified slippers, and were causing my feet some grief whenever I walked anything resembling a distance in them. The winter boots were typically sized, and thus I had to lace them like an overzealous corset to keep them from slipping off my atypically narrow feet.

Let me repeat that: I have atypically narrow feet.

This is not a gender-linked trait, no matter how the shoe-manufacturing market feels about it. When I went to the shoe store on Saturday, I saw that women's shoes come not only in sizes, but also in "narrow", "medium", and "wide"; men's shoes come in sizes, but only in "medium" and "wide".

<growl/>

So, sure enough, the first pair of shoes I tried on were way too wide. Lacing them up did the same thing that my winter boots do: curl the tongue in at an undesigned and unhealthy angle, which feels like driving a dull nail into the top of my foot with every step I take.

I turned from there to a pair of Skechers which claimed that I'd burn calories, improve my posture, and generally look like a perfectly-fit retired astronaut were I to wear them a lot. I dug the wadded-up tissue paper out of them, negotiated the laces around the anti-shoplifting device, stood up, and almost did an immediate face-plant. These stupid soles were practically spherical. Apparently, you burn calories and develop muscles just by trying to stay upright. By their design, it would be impossible to walk heel-heavy, as one must do in the winter around here to keep from slipping. I decided that these were the modern equivalent of the Earth Shoes of the 1970s, and put them back on the rack.

(My brain then reminded me that the sneakers I'd had several years ago which self-destructed and required me to buy the Payless shoes were also Skechers. Note: ignore all Skechers.)

I looked at the remaining sneakers: Reebok (pinched my ankles most nastily), New Balance (less pinch, but more tongue nail), Asics (looked like a Vegas showgirl; not like shoes a Vegas showgirl would wear, but the whole showgirl herself, what with the mesh and the glitter and the bright colors, etc.) which felt like I was falling off a curb with every step. I also shattered my right pinkie fingernail down into the quick while trying on a pair of laceless sneakers which almost fit, but their lack of laces meant that I'd eventually lose one while walking.

I was just about resigned to the New Balance shoes when I saw the "Clearance Rack" in the back. There, under my size, was a pair of boots that had proper boot soles which were properly stitched on, and (miracle of miracles) fit. I put the NBs back, and purchased the (obviously discontinued) boots for 30% off.

My right pinkie bled as I signed the credit card receipt. I hope this doesn't commit my soul to something unpleasant.