Lord help me now. I’ve always been a high heel wearing, flats swearing never, leather purse kind of gal. Now I think my body, or at least its mind, has been invaded by an old lady.
I went barefoot as a child but thought I had overcome or buried that part of my life. I spent 6 ½ years and my children’s inheritance in therapy trying to rid my mind and body of redneckedness.
I know I am not completely lost as I still have evidence that I still exist. I have a closet full of high heels, mules, purses, and profanities regarding flats and those who profess them to be the only shoes one should wear. I also have a mind that seems to be straying.
It began with one of those advertising e-mails that should have gone to the trash. I wish it had for it held nothing but temptation and the lures that no old lady can resist.
I peeked. I saw them. I looked once and immediately went on to something else. I didn’t, however, have the power to close the page. I left it so I could go back should that other person inside of me gain strength.
And she did. Every hour or so I went back and looked to see if they were still there. To see if I still care if they were still there. To see if I had changed my mind and cursed them as I had in the past.
Nope. Every single time I looked I still liked them and even considered purchasing them. But if I did what would people say? How could I explain this drastic change? Would they understand that it wasn’t me betraying myself but that other Aunt Maybelline who has been in hiding for the past 35 years just waiting for the first ache and pain so she could wield her wicked desires?
I am doomed. For the past year or so I have been fighting severe pain in my back, the result of a misguided night time horseback ride around the pyramids of Giza. The first pain has appeared and with it the shameless ‘flats’ Aunt Maybelline who aims to take over this former Diva.
I didn’t know what to do so I left the computer to rid my mind of these alien thoughts. I busied myself by adding additional lines to the septic system, scrubbed the stone pathways in the yard, checked to see if the planets were misaligned, read my horrorscope and called that lady from the islands at the Psychic Support Line. When I returned to the computer it was at 6 p.m. I was safe. The advertisement said that the price would go up after 6 p.m. I wasn’t about to pay more for something I didn’t want in the first place.
I opened the page, hit refresh, and felt confident knowing that the temptation would be gone. Wrong. The price was the same and the stupid Aunt Maybelline that is inside me knows my PayPal password. She ordered them before I could stop her.
I am now the soon to be proud owner of a pair green, palm frond clogs. Yes. You heard that right. No heels. Rubber soled. Old lady clogs.
Please. If I have a friend left out there, shoot me before I begin to purchase granny panties, and utility bras. I am step away from wearing Crocs the ultimate demise for a high heel diva.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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