Sitting in the waiting room yesterday, the only reading material available was fashion magazines.
In my 8 year old bootleg jeans, 25 year old tee shirt from the market that is presentable, comfortable and still fits plus my trainers, I was a far cry from the bedazzling and diamond-decked celebrities on the front covers and within.
Two of the three magazines showed Meghan Markle, and I am fed up with seeing her in the spotlight. With Baby Sussex due in the next few weeks, she will take headline space over the fiasco of Brexit so I passed on those.
What drew my attention was a photograph of a particular celebrity who has rather large feet (a size 11), though I didn’t realise that. IMO she has horrible feet and I just hope it was a trick of the light and they aren’t really that bony and sinewy!
I don’t like feet, sweet smelling or not. I don’t even like my own, but admit to wearing high heels when I was younger, though nothing like the height and angle celebrities wear today.
We don’t look after our feet though do we. I mean I’m not one for foot massage (I’m more than likely to kick the person doing it as I’m ticklish), moisturizer or pumice stone scrubbing, I cut my nails straight across and never paint them, make sure to dry inbetween my toes after a shower or bath, but don’t use talcum powder, sprays or deodorants.
And on the subject of nails, these just make me squeamish!
Which brings me nicely on to the subject of shoes, as how the hell these celebs crammed their feet let alone nails onto shoes and walk is beyond me.
While we were out yesterday, we went into a sports shop so that I could replace my Skechers which are starting to wear on the inside.
I’ve worn them every day since purchase last July and as they have memory foam insoles, they are so comfortable I decided to get another pair.
For once, an assistant was free to assist rather than talk to a colleague about his weekend and kindly pointed me upstairs to the ladies section. Why is the ladies always upstairs???
I had a look round and nothing stood out other than the prices which started around £50. Ouch. I didn’t remember paying that much last time, but as we consider it a matter of health because of my diabetes, once I find something that works, I stick with it.
I found another assistant who was prepared to help me.
One thing about a pair of comfy shoes is the label. Read that and it’s half the battle, especially when you hate shoe or any other kind of clothes shopping as I do.
Taking my shoe off, I read the label to her.
‘Oh, I don’t think we have anything in a ladies 7½, and certainly nothing like you’re wearing. Are you sure they’re not mens?’
Back downstairs I go to see the original guy.
‘Apparently these are mens trainers.’ I announced.
Looking at my feet, recognising the logo thereon, he nodded and I trotted after him down into the bowel end of the shop.
He put his hand straight on the style, waved his magic wand |(stock confirmation app), confirmed my size and went out back, coming back less than two minutes later with a box.
Leaving me to try them on, they were a perfect fit, so I went to pay, thanking him as I went.
All done and dusted in less than ten minutes.
Even better, they were £37, so cheaper than any of the ladies option to boot (sorry, couldn’t resist).
I’ve worn them round the park this morning when we walked the dog as we plan to give her some quality time today after yesterday. Bless her, she’s still catching up on her sleep.