Barking Dogs

I've had the same pair of shoes for almost 3 years now and they still hurt my feet. I don't know why I keep them. I'm like that stupid mouse that can't figure out to stop eating the cheese that shocks the be-jeezus out of him every time he reaches for it. Call me a classical conditioning drop-out.

It's just that I love them. They looks so much different from all of my other shoes. They are mesh and elastic and remind me of black and purple aqua socks. Whenever I want to look truly Coloradidian I reach for them and my down vest in one motion.

I think the problem is that I will wear them one day, limping all the while and after that day shove them to the back of the shoe heap. There they will linger, allowing my memory of their vindictive pain-producing ability to fade. One day 6 months later I'll find them down there and think, "my, those are cute shoes. Surly they only hurt me the last time because I haven't fully broken them in. Don't they look like they will just slip on and feel so good on my feet?"

But, fool that I am, I have fallen for their looks. A moth to a flame. If my feet could talk I'm sure they would squeal out a frantic warning to me as I draw them into their black mesh and velcro prisons.

I walk off to school thinking, my these shoes are glorious. The are warm and soft, yet breathable and light. All through my morning I will almost laugh at my own silliness at not wearing them every day of my life.

Then, the afternoon sets in.

All I can say is, my poor, poor achilles tendon.

The once close and comforting fit has become a raw and pulsating legion on my right heel. The secure closure of the velcro pinches in the wrong place and causes my left pinky toe to fall asleep. As I hobble home from work I am filled with disgust. Not really at my shoes, but at myself for once again believing that I could find comfort in their embrace. It is my fault. I am the fool.

These stupid shoes are being pitched into the darkest corners of my closet and THIS time I will remember.

I WILL.