Girl, I Just Got My Shoe Check!

(Disclaimer: Your tender Poundpapi in no way encourages financial irresponsibility. Unless you're going to buy hot shoes.)

The title of this post is timely, as many of us will be (or have already) received our economic stimulus checks in the mail. Furthermore, my friends at Opera Theatre of St. Louis have reported that their food stipend checks have also arrived at the beginning of the season, as always.

Oh- I'm sorry, did I call it a food stipend check? Silly me. Everyone knows that it's a plain ol' Shoe Check. The fact that we were some hungry, destitute bitches by the end of the season mattered not when we were beautifully shod. (I'm exaggerating here. This company's food stipend for apprentices was an uncommon thing, in my experience. They paid us well enough to eat regardless, so this check was a tender bonus, to be used wisely, or shoe-ly. Guess which I picked.)

Anywayz, my first summer at St. Louis, the girlz and I were out shopping at the lovely mall in Clayton, and we just so happened to wander into a shoe store sporting a huge "Going Out of Business" sign over the entry. Time to get busy, bitches.

In actuality, I was not really planning on buying anything on this shopping trip, but then I saw these hot pumps. Let me rationalize this ridiculous purchase to you, much as I rationalized to myself, with Damien and Aaron as my backup singers:

1. It was finna be my birthday. Three or four weeks, but still, tempus fugit.
2. I had a shoe check! (A partial shoe check.)
3. The pumps were muthafuckin fierce. At least as fierce as this. (Make sure to watch the whole video!)
4. I needed some black pumps.
5. I talked the salesman down from ca. $500 to $200.
6. They were the last pair, and in my size!

Bet. I was getting ready to hook the shits up, but I needed to try them on one last time, just to make sure that it was going to be worth emptying my bank account. As I modeled in front of a full-length mirror, a random middle-aged black woman sitting behind me made her presence known.

Woman: "Yeah, they look good and all, but what I need to know is: can you walk in them?"
Me: "Sashay, chantay, bitch." (cues Supermodel, proceeds to fuck up the whole catwalk)
Woman:"Aight, den."

I worked them boots like I was about to get voted off ANTM. I almost bit it on that shiny, smooth floor as the new, baby human leather soles had yet to be scuffed by mortal folly. Still, I was triumphant, and slapped the credit card down on the counter. You can bet I wore them bitches right out the damn mall.

Of course, while the uppers of these pumps were made of the tenderest leather available to their Italian craftsmen, the combination of hard sole with that nice, tall heel makes for a less-than-orthopedically-correct walking/dancing/sashaying experience. In fact, my big toe still goes numb when I wear those boots too often. Believe me, my big toes have spent a lot of time in the last two years in a state of numbness, but the heels are hot, plus, I love getting my money's worth out of expensive shit like that. If we estimate about 600 days since I purchased them bad boys, I'd say that I've worn them about 200 times, and when I wear them, it's usually an all-day event. They are trusty, no doubt. They are also crusty, and for that, I intend to find someone to repair and restore them.

However, the purpose of this entry is not to rehash a story many of you have heard already from mine own lips. In response to pieces written in the NYT and on mavenhaven, I've decided that while I have no intention of not wearing hot pumpz, I can certainly devote more time to foot healthy activities, yes? That includes as much barefoot walking as possible, given my reluctance to actually appear barefoot in the general public. Since we are a no-shoes household to begin with, I thought that I'd go a step further (ki ki) and hop on the treadmill barefoot, and see how my feet handle it. After a forty minute walk, I have to say I've never enjoyed walking on a treadmill more! My wide feet freed from the unkind clamp of running shoes, I noticed that my somewhat flat feet began to regain more of an arch and my alignment and stride seemed much more natural. Last, my feet, ankles and legs got a workout, but in different muscles, and without a hint of the strain that would sometimes accompany my walking/jogging stints on the machine.

So, there you go. I'll be sure to report more on this experiment. I also intend on tracking down a pair of Nike Frees for when I feel like venturing in a barefoot-ish manner outside the confines of my home. Hopefully this stuff will make up for those nights when I just have to put my heels on.