A while back I lamented that my only chance of finding ladies shoes in my advanced size had evaporated as the UK supplier of Le Dame shoes had given up on that particular line. Not being one to give up in a hurry I made a few enquiries and now with the help of Bernie at Le Dame and my amused-but-not-shocked Stateside friend G there is a new pair of shoes on its way to me.
It's one of those sheepish moments, being caught in the act of an irrational piece of girl shopping. I don't need these shoes. They will not be the most comfortable footwear I've ever worn. They will look good to me on my feet but I'd have to question the sanity of anyone else who could see me wearing them without giggling. I certainly don't need to rise even further above those around me than I already have. Door frames already elicit an unconscious duck from me, why on earth should I make it even worse?
Yet I want them. They've called out to me ever since I first found them months ago, black patent exerts a strong pull.
Have I been caught in the same way buying frivolous stuff as a bloke? Of course not, naturally, blokes never buy anything frivolous!
Well, maybe there was that Triumph Herald convertible. I didn't need a third car, especially not one that turned out to be as rusty as that one. And was it worth putting up with a 640x480 pixel CMOS sensor for a few years just to be the first person in my group to own a digital camera? Didn't think so. Gotcha!
My shoes will arrive sometime next week, with luck. You'll know me by sight, I'll have a bruise on my forehead.