goodgravy

Today I was at Ross, scrimping as best as I could and looking for work clothes. I think that is the only situation where I will shop at Ross for clothes. Don’t get me wrong, they have nice socks and curtain rods, but I’m not really into natty fabrics and t-shirts that say PRINCESS IN THE HOUZ. So anyway, I was checking out the shoes for some secretary-like duds (hell yeah I got an interview for next week) and I wound up browsing in the Ladies’ 9.5 section. Most days require size 10s, but on a good day I can squeeze into those 9.5s. I thought today might be a good day.

There was another person in the same aisle, which is pretty much the Ross standard, although usually it is more like five other people in the aisle, all trying to grab what you are looking at. I was not finding anything worthwhile in the 9.5s and then I noticed the dude next to me was busy trying on shoes. I didn’t see what he tried on, but I saw him putting back on his sneakers and taking a gander at the heels. For a brief moment I stood there, wondering why there was a gangster-looking dude next to me trying on ladies heels. Then I remembered where I am living. I was still a little freaked out though, I’m not going to lie, because the shoes I was looking at were a whole size bigger than the ones he was checking out.

I ended up getting some swanky black peep toes. I hesitated at first, because I pretty much hate kitten heels, but I figured if a tough bro can wear high heels then a non-forty-year-old-over-tanned-mom can wear kitten heels. Wish me luck on my interview.

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