Blister Season

cruelshoesYou guys, I’m in pain. Severe, severe pain. And I would like to thank my feet not being conditioned for sandals of any kind.

With the weather, for once, being over 60 degrees this weekend slash this week, Friday I took it upon myself to march to DSW to stock up on some new sandals. Let me tell you, I was like a kid in a candy store. How could I not be? All I’ve wanted to do was toss my boots to the wind and let my feet flourish in fresh air (after a nice pedicure, though … no one wants to see any of that pre-pedicure. Hey, it was a rough winter.).

After scoring some ridiculously good deals (seriously, you would be a fool not to march to DSW right now … go … well, no … finish reading this post … THEN go), I literally was ripping open the boxes and putting the gladiator heels and sandals on my feet before even making it home. Now for those of you who don’t know, I walk. A lot. I work in the city and hate driving, so yeah. Without thinking or taking the proper precautions, I threw on my new shoes and started trekking out and about. There’s truly nothing better then strutting in a pair of new sandals. Until after an hour of strutting you literally are in so much pain you want to cry. If you saw a person walking awkwardly in the city and cursing under her breath because of the pain this weekend, that was me.

I suppose at the end of every summer, there is some hormone or enzyme that makes women forget how much breaking in sandals sucks … much like they say about childbirth. Because flash forward to me last night, at the end of the weekend, with my feet covered in blisters and cuts (sorry for the amazingly graphic image right there). I spent my Sunday evening covering my wounds in Neosporin and writhing in pain. And then I remembered, oh yeah, sometimes, and by sometimes I mean most times, sandals need to be worked in. Seriously, have you ever taken a shower with your feet covered in blisters? Yeah. It sucks. Everything sucks unless you are a princess and can kick your feet up all day. If so, I hate your face.

As much as I’m so pumped the weather is finally warm enough to retire the over sized sweaters, boots, and jackets … I’m not so pumped about conditioning my feet for new sandals. It’s a bitch. I mean I woke up this morning, hoping the Neosporin magically cured my feet wounds (again, sorry for the mental image) overnight, but alas it did not. So today I had to rock a pair of flats that are so old I probably needed to retire them six months ago, but so comfy I just could not part with them … thank God. Oh yeah … and I had to wake up super early for the covering of wounds with Band Aids process … even though half of them won’t stay on and I will probably find a really random Band Aid under my desk or something. Sexy, right? Nothing like a random Band Aid.

So here I am, walking carefully as literally anything I put on my feet rub one of the many blisters the wrong way, praying for the days when I’m all healed up and ready to rock my sandals. And hoping to dear sweet Jesus they won’t re-damage my feet. Which, let’s be real, they probably will.

I leave you with this Public Service Announcement, ladies. Don’t walk far distances in new sandals. Wear them around your house, walk around the block, but don’t do anything ambitious like walk 10 city blocks in them … like me. Learn from my mistakes. Hopefully one day you’ll see me strutting in my cute new sandals that I want to kiss I love them so much. But until then, it’s crusty ol’ flats for me. :::Sigh::: I mine as well say screw it and rock orthopedics.


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