I think whoever decided to create high heels also is the creator of the concept 'sadomasochism'.
Let me tell you a little story about why I've come to this conclusion.
It was a lovely Friday, I was getting a whirlwind of errands done and I had just stopped off for a latte and a sit down and write session at a cafe on Lt. Collins. To reward myself for such do good-ery I decided to nip into Zu to pick up the gorgeous slate coloured flats I'd seen a few days earlier. After all they were 40% off - who was I to say 'no'?
But as fate will have it, they weren't the only thing 40% off and with the inane ability to justify any shopping that I wish to do I told myself that two pairs of shoes at 40% off meant I really only spent 120% of the original costs and that was hardly much more than I'd have spent if I bought them back when they were full price; even though I hadn't seen them way back when. Anyway, I couldn't see anything that I wanted to buy which honestly and sadly enough, started to depress me. I don't like when I get the need to spend money and I can't find things to buy. I'm like the character in Sophie Kinsella's 'Shopaholic' books (not to be confused with the character in the horribly scripted movie version). Eventually I found in the mix an amazing pair of shoes that looked not unlike really slutty - sky high version of a school shoe I was never aloud to own. I was instantly in love.
Pair them with a leather jacket and a beyond beautiful pale pink dress with cream lacing and I had the biggest winner of an outfit. However, pair them with the slippery hard floor of a nightclub where people run past you as if they are playing football and you have what I like to now refer to as "The Saturday Night Incident That Ruined Everything".
Not only in a split second did I take a fall thanks to some rough douche bag, and my ankle turned purple and three times the size of my other ankle... but my entire hopes came down with me.
I'd only just gotten back into my living-life-right mode this past week and I was doing so well, regularising my sleep patterns... getting back out of holiday mode... concentrating on the positives about being here now instead of being in London and using them to get me into gear. I've only just gotten better since my last ankle injury almost a year ago now, only just been able to run again or wear stupidly high heels. Now everything is ruined; well and truly ruined. I don't know how long this will take to heal and what's worse is that I don't know how long until I get to London. I don't know if PKD will be able to come with me still now when I do leave, I don't know if she will be able to come back at Christmas, I don't know if my brother will be able to work around coming over now in October either.
I'm beyond shattered. I can't move - I've had the shakes all day, pain vomits have occured at least 4 times and PKD isn't around so I've been on my own with zero food. Today has been the absolute pits.
I don't like when things are easy and life does not challenge me; it's true. But this was well out of order.
I'm so devastated I can't wear those shoes again until it heals too.
Oh, come on... As if I was ever going to learn a lesson from this?
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