|I realize that this is, indeed, a pumpkin hat and not a candy corn hat-|
but you get the picture.
As much as I love shopping, I loathe buying new tennis shoes. I would so much rather spend money on books, a new pair of leather boots or a date night with martinis and my handsome husband, than to buy new work out gear. That is probably why my current pair is over three years old, broken down and covered in dirt, grass stains and.... is that bacon grease? Gee, could my crappy old shoes be the source of my back trouble? Surely not.
*The shoes in the picture are not my real shoes, they are merely actor shoes, depicting the truth.
In lieu of throwing those stinky old sneakers into my luggage with all of my fabulous NYC wardrobe, I decided that it was time for a new pair. Since I already had called a sitter so that I had time to return my now broken bleepity bleeping cell phone to Verizon,because taking children to the cell phone store is the equivalent fun level as birthing said children, I took advantage of my child free time for a little thing I like to call "Exercising my Credit Card". So I pulled on my fringed bag, adjusted my pink bangle bracelets and channeled my inner athlete as I headed next door to Runner's Roost for a new pair of sneaks.
Upon arrival, the sales associate was friendly and helpful, even though I was... well... me. First he asked if I needed stability for pronation or if my foot was balanced, to which I replied, "Oh, I'm unstable, for sure."
He stifled a laugh, which was too bad for him,because it only encouraged more dickery from me.
Then he proceeded to point out the styles that could provide the proper support for a lady of my Pro-Nation stature (Go NRA!). Of course I immediately established a love affari with the green shoes, but sadly, they cramped my toes and I hadn't even taken on my daily foot water yet. He next pointed at some white ones that he had in my Clydesdale size and I looked at him bleakly and said, "I can't own white shoes. I will wear them twice and it will look like I've been out slopping the hogs all day."
Then he asked, "How far do you typically run?". Thinking about my erratic walk, limp, spastic sprint, double over and gasp for air, walk routine, I replied, "About as far as Betty White runs every day. How far do you think I can run with my walker?"
Since the green were not in my size (why can't I have greeeennn? And WHHHHYYYY doesn't anyone make quarter sizes??? It's such a simple solution!), I ended up with a pair of grey and pink Nike's (of course! what other color would be available to me?), which is perfect because they will match my pink phone case, my pink tongue, my pink unicorn and the pink around my eyes. Also, the grey color should quite nicely camouflage the dirt and grime in which they will soon be covered. Because I'm a mothereffing lady.
When I was checking out, there was a high school student at the counter beside me and our friendly sales associate told her that she would get a student discount. Then I piped up, "I'll take that discount, because I'm a student of life." I don't think I got the discount, but I did get some new, non smelly shoes to wear for when I hobble around like an 85 year old woman with a plastic hip and call it "exercise". I'm tempted to try them out with my giant fanny pack, mom jeans, and terry cloth visor that I plan on wearing in New York, because aside from a camera strapped around my neck, what else would scream tourist more loudly?
Peace, Love and Pink Shiz,