Tassel Booties, Blisters & Darling Dani

At the beginning of the semester, Danielle and I decided to have a girl’s day at the mall.

Danielle and I met at orientation for SUNY Oswego because we were in the same group. The first time I noticed her, we were playing a word game where we were supposed to describe ourselves in one word that started with the first letter of our names. I was marvelous Molly, she was darling Dani…a little red headed girl that looked as awkward in a social setting as I did. We started talking in the front row of an informational meeting, against the disapproving looks of the lecturer. We bonded immediately over the fact that we were both English majors, weren’t used to the party scene and how we were nervous as hell to be there. From some weird cliché reason...it was like I had already known her my whole life. Danielle is just like that.

We’ve been best friends since then and she’s the one person that I truly have spent my entire college experience with.  She knows me inside and out…all my secrets, all my imperfections, and all my strengths. Between the study sessions, the parties, the dining hall food, sharing a tiny dorm room together, and the best friend dates, we’ve been through it all. We’ve been together for every laugh, every cry, every drunken moment, every success and every heartbreak. College just wouldn’t have been college without Danielle.

Danielle and I have been together since before freshman year, so when she decided to move to Fulton our senior year to live with her boyfriend, I was distraught. I wouldn’t have my partner in crime available whenever I needed her. When she moved out of our house junior year, I was a wreck. I wrote her a letter telling her all the things I couldn’t get myself to say to her just yet…about how I was going to miss having her around 24/7 and how I wanted to us both to make an effort to stay close even though she was moving a town away. Now, I find it silly I was worried because we’re just as close as ever and every time I see her it’s exciting. Even though we have classes three times a week together, we have our dates once in a while so we can catch up outside of class.

We went into Forever 21 during our trip to the mall, our favorite place to try on the most ridiculous things we find. Wearing shorts and flip flops, I slipped into a cheetah fur jacket to make Danielle laugh. We found the most ridiculous party dresses that were too short and too sparkly to be worn in public that we decided we must try on. We ventured through the rooms, each donned with an individual style, trying to find the room that fit us best. Of course, the shoe room is my favorite (but it’s dangerous because I’m always walking out with a shopping bag whenever I dare to explore over there).

That’s when I saw them. My tassel booties. At first, I thought they were ridiculous. Suede with fringe all down the side, swinging about while you walk? Stupid…though we all know I like motion from my pompom winter boots. Hmm, maybe I’d just try them on?

It was one of those familiar moments when you see something you like but you’re not sure how it’s going to look yet so you break away from who you’re with to check them out. When I got closer, I realized I liked them. A lot. But I kind of thought they were a little obnoxious at the same time. That’s what I like about shoes though…when they have that element of me in them along with something about them that kind of scares me a little bit because it’s so not me at the same time.

     Danielle disagreed though.

    “Those are so you.”

     “Really?” I asked, surprised she knew they were completely me before I did.

The first day I wore my boots, I was stupid. First of all, I didn’t break them in first and second of all, I wore them during the one day a week that I walk to three classes, in a row, that are all in opposite directions.  I didn’t realize how high the heels were either until I started walking around on campus. Needless to say my tassel booties betrayed me and I ended up with blisters. Big, peeling, puffy, swollen blisters on the bottom on my feet.

Of course, the next day I complained to Danielle. Like every other time, she felt my pain.

     “Aw, blisters suck!” she said, giving her sympathetic and sincere puppy dog lip. “It will heal though,” she said, followed by her infectious grin.

If you knew Danielle at all, you could picture this since she does this constantly. She deflates when you tell her something negative, and brightens the next second with something positive.

Though it’s a small thing, it always makes me feel better. That someone, for just two seconds, can feel my pain with me. Not comparing themselves to my pain, not one upping me with their blister story, not giving an insincere comment…No, it’s something she’s done for me ever since I met her. Every time I tell her something she takes it to heart, and takes it on as her own. It’s a trait in her that I have always admired. That someone can be so selfless and so affected by someone else’s problems.

Whether it’s a blister, or a bad test grade, or a breakdown, or to tell me that those shoes are “me,” Danielle is always there for me. And I hope she knows I’m there for her too. My darling Dani inspires me to be a good friend, and for that I will be forever thankful. 

More Than High School Gym Class: A Lifestyle Change

Recently, I've been having a difficult time with body image.

This summer I worked at McDonald’s for a little less than 40 hours a week. Many of my shifts were over eight hours and I was required to take a half an hour break. At first, I would bring my lunch every day, convinced that I didn’t like fast food. Before working at McDonald’s, I had probably eaten fast food a total of three times last year. But while working I would find myself craving the food once in a while.

And once I started, I couldn’t stop.

I’m not saying that McDonald’s is the only reason I gained weight this summer. I was also very inactive because I was tired from working shifts at work that started at 6 AM and I would find myself dragging and being lazy. I drank more this summer than I have in my life, since it was my first summer at home as a 21 year old. I found myself adopting bad habits. I didn't want to put my sneakers on because of my new foot tattoo and I didn't even have a gym membership anyway. I was watching Netflix in bed during the middle of the day, ordering iced coffee every day to keep me going and going out to eat with family or friends I wanted to catch up with at least three times a week.

I was becoming a person I didn’t really know. I’ve never been very athletic growing up, but I’ve always been active. I was always involved in some unusual extracurricular activity like horseback riding, dance, and ice skating.

However, sneakers have never been important to me…when I horseback rode it was riding boots, when I danced it was dance shoes, when I ice skated it was ice skates. I never really wore sneakers as a kid either, besides that weird skater shoes stage my generation went through during middle school. I would wear sneakers during gym class, where any organized sport that involved a ball would either scare me or bore me. Buying sneakers was something that didn’t interest me. It reminded me of gym class and the fact that a basketball seemed to magically and painfully knock my glasses off my face every year. 

I really just couldn't get excited about getting sweaty during the middle of a school day. 

I got these sneakers when I was in high school, I needed new gym shoes and these were the first ones I saw in the store (plus they were on sale, heyyyy). I didn’t even try them on, I grabbed my size and I bought them without a second thought. I considered them to fall into the category of shoes I’m required to own, rather than ones I NEED to own…if that makes any sense.

What has been hard for me is coming to grips with my body changing. I’ve weighed about the same since I was in middle school and recently it’s been different. My clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. What’s the worst for me is the thought process that comes along with a changing body. My image of my body is very skewed, thanks to my new obsession with weighing myself.

Surprisingly, I’ve found that I’m extremely unmotivated to change my situation. To make matters worse, my boyfriend, Jake, is a Health and Wellness Management major and the way he was talking to me for a while as if he was my personal trainer rather than my boyfriend.

For a while, I wasn’t sure who to talk to. My boyfriend was having a hard time distinguishing his girlfriend from one of his clients. My friends would laugh and joke that I look just as skinny as I always have.

I was starting to have bad thoughts. I would feel guilty every time I ate, even if I was eating something that was good for my body. I would weigh myself a ridiculous number of times every day, noting every change. I would try to avoid food and distract myself, but then I would be so hungry that I would binge on something that was terrible for me. I was getting into bad habits…habits that I know are typical of an eating disorder.

Last night, I was about to go out for some drinks with some friends. I was getting ready while Jake was hanging out in my room and as I took off my shirt, I looked into the mirror and broke down crying. Jake wasn’t sure what to do so he just hugged me and kissed my forehead.

“Why don’t you just go be with a super skinny girl that likes sports and fitness?” I asked through tears.

He didn’t even skip a beat.

“Because I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you for who you are, not what you look like. You’re goofy and you make me laugh. We love all the same things, well besides sports," he laughed. "But I’d rather come home at the end of the day to you than some skinny athletic girl that I have nothing to talk to about.”

The next morning I woke up, put my sneakers on and went for a run. I did crunches and used weights in my living room. For the past week I’d been trying to watch what I eat, but nothing’s changed for me. I know working out is what will help me back to my healthy body, on top of eating better. I just I don’t need only a diet change, I need a lifestyle change.

I don’t expect immediate results by any means, but I want to strive to be healthy again. I want to feel happy with my body again and comfortable in my clothes. Slipping into my sneakers this morning was a different experience than when I usually put them on. Instead of feeling like a lethargic gym student, I felt empowered.

When it comes down to it, I’m the only one that can make the change that I need in my life to have a healthy lifestyle. My new mindset will majorly help. And I’m hoping that my new opinion about my sneakers will help a little bit too.

"A Different Kind of Foot Accessory: Love Times Infinity"

This post isn’t really going to be about my shoes, but rather something you need to wear shoes… your feet, duh!

A couple weeks ago, I got a foot tattoo with my cousin Vanessa. We decided to get matching infinity signs on the outside of our foot. It was something that we had been discussing for over a year and we planned to get it when we went to the beach this summer in North Carolina.

I really don’t mind the idea of tattoos…now. I always used to have the mentality when I was younger that I would NEVER do that to myself. I always wondered how someone could love something SO much that they would want it literally connected to them for life. Being the kind of indecisive overthinker that I am, I always thought there was no way I would ever make a lifelong commitment of physical alteration to my body. Sure, I have my ears and my belly button pierced and I’ve had my nose pierced, but those are easily taken out when they no longer suit you. Jewelry is changeable and holes are closeable.

As I got older, I understood more some of the reasoning behind why people get tattoos. Some tattoos are beautiful for the design and appearance, but sometimes the meaning behind them is even more beautiful. Some of my best friends have tattoos that they absolutely love and once they tell me what they mean to them, I find myself loving them too. A tattoo with a personal meaning holds a constant reminder of why you got it, who you got it with, where you were in your life at that point and what it means for you, and I really do find that beautiful.

Once I found myself wanting a tattoo, I thought about the things in my life that I love. And I couldn’t help but think of Vanessa. 

The one thing that has always, and will always, be constant in my life. Our families joke that we’re long lost twins and the fact that we call each other soul mates. I can’t imagine my life without her. Our relationship consists of not only our bond now, but our childhood, our family, and the idea of always being connected. Having Vanessa isn’t like having a friend or having a spouse or a boyfriend, instead it’s family, the love that will never leave. A bond that will never be broken. Love times infinity.

At first, Vanessa was unsure about the idea when I threw it out there, but it only took a few days for her to be convinced. We jumped into it without looking back. We were doing it. No ifs, ands or buts. We had discussed everything in depth: the size, location, color, and style of the tattoo. Vanessa and I are very similar in the fact that we both over think everything we do to the point of an obsession. And with both of us thinking about something we would have on our bodies for the rest of our lives, it’s needless to say that we overly consumed with ideas, questions, and second thoughts. We were scared we were going to make the wrong decision, that it was going to hurt or that we would regret it immediately after.

I never really saw myself getting a foot tattoo. Once I discovered myself wanting a tattoo, I thought for sure it’d be on my back or my waist. I don’t love many parts of my body but I really do love my feet. They’re small and they’re proportional to my body. I always have my toes painted a different color. My boyfriend gives me amazing foot massages when they hurt and I always make sure they’re moisturized and buffed and pretty. I mean, considering how much I love shoes it’s not surprising, right? It’s not like you would buy a beautiful new candy dish and put dog food in it…so why would I put something nasty into shoes I love so much? I take pride in my feet and what I put on them…to me, my feet are an accessory too. The idea of a foot tattoo never really crossed my mind, but once I saw the design Vanessa and I wanted of the infinity sign, we decided on our feet and we never turned back. It felt right for some reason I can’t explain and we could never picture it anywhere else.

When Vanessa and I arrived in North Carolina, we went to the tattoo parlor, much our mother’s dismay, and made an appointment. Up until that point, I was so caught up in the glamour of the idea that I was getting a tattoo with my soul mate that I didn’t think about a lot of aspects that I really should have considered. After we set the appointment and paid a 50$ deposit, the reality of the situation set in and so did the fear. It was going to hurt. Badly. When it comes to tattoos, the foot is one of the most sensitive and painful places on the body to get a tattoo next to the hand, face or the ribs. People we knew with foot tattoos told us it hurt really badly, more than other tattoos they have. We suddenly became consumed with fear that it was going to be so utterl painful that we wouldn’t be able to do it. What if we got halfway through and couldn’t finish? What if we had an involuntary flinch and the artist messes up? 

Our thoughts were irrational and the two of us thinking these thoughts and bringing them up to each other constantly wasn’t helping. Whenever I would calm down, Vanessa would be freaking out and I would freak out too. Whenever Vanessa got her mind on something else, I would remind her of the pain with a ridiculous question that neither of us could answer.

Not only did I not think about the pain during the tattoo, but I hadn’t thought about the pain after the tattoo. You’re supposed to avoid wearing enclosed shoes for about three weeks…and I wear my work shoes about 35 hours a week. You’re supposed to try and stay off your foot and I was going on two vacations and standing at a register all day at work. The placement of the tattoo also wasn’t something we had thought through in the sense that it was going to fade faster because of it being on the side of the foot. But we had put down money and if it’s one thing we are, as a 20 and 21 year old college student, it’s CHEAP. We’re both pretty positive that if it wasn’t for the deposit we would have chickened out after all of our fears, worries and irrational thoughts raced through our mind for four days before our appointment.

When we got to our appointment, we were way too early. Vanessa and I tried to scream it out in the car but we were shaking in fear. More than once upon entering the tattoo shop, after hearing the buzz of the tattoo gun mixed in with the death metal music over the speakers and seeing pretty much every person there covered in tattoos, did we say:

“We don’t belong here” and “What are we doing with our lives?”

Once Vanessa sat in the chair, her eyes bugged out and she looked about to cry. I couldn’t even be right next to her since I was supposed to stay behind a half wall, but my arm reached over as far as I could until our hands were gripping. Before the tattoo even started, Vanessa had already grabbed my arm so hard I had a pretty good Indian burn. The tattoo artist, a man who resembled a giant, unhappy Zach Galifianakis with ten facial piercings including a one pound ring in the middle of his nose, didn’t seem to care at all about our fears and certainly didn’t make us feel that comfortable. We knew he was a great artist, so we weren’t concerned about that, but we were concerned about the pain we were about to experience.

Vanessa surprised me by barely reacting besides the occasional teeth gritting and mousy “that really hurts.” I talked about how beautiful she is and we discussed drama in her life to take her mind off it, but she didn’t cry and it made me feel like I could do this too. We were in it together.

Once I sat in the chair, the reality of the situation hit me even more. My body was uncontrollably shaking. My eyes welled up with tears as Vanessa smiled at me knowing exactly what I was feeling. When the tattoo gun hit my foot, I was surprised of the pain. It was unusual…it didn’t make me want to cry, or jerk my foot away, but instead it was a little irritating. Probably less than a bee sting. It ached more than it stung. It felt like a person with a sharp nail dug it into my skin and was running it along my foot. The only part that really hurt was when it got close to my ankle because of the placement of the bone in my foot.

When it was done we paid the rest of the bill, silently patting ourselves on the back and once we exited the building we erupted in cheers, hugs and dance moves. We figured we would save it until we left so that the pierced, tattoo covered, metal listening artists wouldn’t think we were lame. We bought ourselves our favorite foods, Dairy Queen M&M flurry for her and a plate of Thai fried rice for me.

Since having my tattoo, my foot has been in pain. It has swollen up a few times from work and walking, it’s itched to the point of tickling, it’s peeled, it’s burned, and it’s ached. I’ve had half a dozen nightmares about my tattoo falling off or fading thanks to Vanessa’s morning texts telling me about her crazy dreams of infected, falling off, peeling tattoos. I also baby my foot like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve always been like that when it comes to any injury and I’ve made a ridiculous effort to sleep with it outside of blankets and hold it out of the shower and hand washing it afterwards.

But if there’s one thing I am, when it comes to this tattoo, it’s happy. I’m happy I did it. I’m happy I conquered a fear. I’m happy that I have a reminder of Vanessa that I see every day of my life. I’m happy that I’m that loved that someone else would want to have something tattooed on them to remind them of me. I’m happy about the way it looks, the placement and the simplicity of it. Every time I see it, I smile.

I’m just happy.

And I know she’s happy too.

P.S. But I will add…that the only thing I’m NOT happy about it my inability to wear whatever shoes I want…I really really REALLY miss my strap on sandals, my sneakers, my flats, my wedges, my heels and my rain boots. Badly. I find myself staring at them a lot and wishing I could complete my outfit with my cheetah sandals or my pink wedges. I can't even explain how sick I am of my two dollar Old Navy rubber flip lops. I can’t wait until my foot tattoo heals and I can wear whatever shoes I want, whenever I want! It’s like torture, but I want my tattoo to heal right and I just live for the day I can show off my tat in whatever shoes I wish!  

Ten Shoes I Can Absolutely Live Without

So, I don’t like to discriminate when it comes to shoes but there are certain styles that just….irk me.

I know most of my posts are about shoes that I love, so I thought I’d change it up and let you guys in on a couple styles I don’t love so much. And I’m not judging anyone who wears any of these shoes, but I’m just personally not a fan. If you love your clogs or your toe shoe then all power to you. Like I’ve always said your style is your style and if you feel fabulous and comfortable than that’s fine with me! I just thought it’d be a different kind of post to poke a little fun at some shoe styles I…may never understand.

1.)    Clogs.

Okay, like I said in my last post I’m just not feeling clogs. They have no back, yet they have a front…I just don’t understand it. Why would someone create half a shoe? Not only that, but the noise that clogs make when people walk in them drives me absolutely crazy. I get that people can be lazy sometimes but you can’t pick up your feet? I can’t stand walking behind someone wearing clogs. They don’t walk, they shuffle. I’m pretty sure basic physics don’t allow for the arch of a foot to be able to pick up a heavy bottom of a shoe that’s not even connected to the back of your heel. Flip flops are similar except that they’re usually lighter and although they still can make that annoying shuffling noise, they’re definitely not as unattractive as clogs. Plus all I can think about are those nasty wooden Dutch clogs that just honestly need to be burned in a giant bonfire.

2.)    Crocs.

I get why Crocs were created and that’s fine. If you’re on your feet for long shifts at a hospital or a restaurant, I get it. If you’re a gardener, then okay. If you have trouble fitting into other shoes because of a foot problem and crocs are comfortable. then it’s acceptable. But I just can’t understand when anyone else just wears crocs to make a fashion statement. To me, crocs are similar to my ugly work shoes. I wear them because I need to, not because I think they’re cute and they go with my style. I think the material of crocs really bugs me too. That weird comfortable rubber just seems strange to me. And the stickers! I almost forgot about the stickers that people sometimes put on crocs to bedazzle them. Why someone would think their rubber shoes need a smiley face or a butterfly sticker is a very odd concept to me.

And the worst of all crocs has to be the ones with fur lining. There are HOLES in your shoes, why on earth do you need a fur lining around them? Are you wearing them in the snow? You are aware they have no back right?

3.)    Ankle cuff sandals. 

  

Sandals are for when it’s hot out. You don’t want your feet trapped inside socks and shoes all summer and so people wear sandals. It’s a carefree feeling to have your toes exposed and exploring the world. Finally breathing! That’s why I find is bizarre that girls want their ankles wrapped in a legwarmer sock strap attached to their sandals. And a lot of the time the material doesn’t seem bendable. Looks like half sandal, half leather boot. I also just find the shape of them to be weird. When they’re just sitting there is looks like a leg is already in it…they support themselves…ghost feet.

4.)    Platform flip flops.

No, no, no. These are the one style of shoes that I just can’t even accept under any circumstances. A little bit of height when it comes to sandals is okay, a small platform is fine but then you see those platform sandals that are like 5 inches high. Why someone would create a thick sole that is the same height is beyond me. The whole point of added height is to elevate yourself, to make your legs look longer and your body leaner. If only the heel is elevated and the toes arch down then the body can create the appearance of being taller and thinner, but if your entire foot is simply raised a few inches then you’ve done nothing for your body other than give yourself a few more inches on a height chart. Platform heels are different because they give you the height and the angle…it’s like the best of both worlds. But platform sandals just don’t do anything for a woman’s body. They’re heavy and ugly. Plus they remind of the shoes that kids in the 90’s, yes I’m included, wore in like 4^th grade when they were trying to be tall and “cool.” Sorry, but most women that I see wearing these are guilty of a few other “that’s too young for you” fashion faux pas.

5.)    Toe shoes. 

Talk about creepy. Yes, I love shoes but that does not mean that I love feet. And I definitely don’t want to see anyone’s toes in little slots. It just reminds me of toe socks, which freak me out to no end…I’m not sure why each toe needs it’s only little compartment. I just find these shoes scary for some reason. Whenever I see someone wearing them I just stare at their feet. Those aren’t shoes. They are weird toe socks with a thick sole. Sure, they’re probably good for hiking or for the arch of your foot or whatever else people think they do for you, but to me I would have to say fashion over comfort on this one.

6.)    Furry boots. 

No, it isn’t okay to wear a dead animal, or anything that looks like it, on your feet. I’m all for a little bit of fur embellishment when it comes to boots, especially on the inside…sooo toasty warm…but these boots honestly look completely ridiculous. I can’t even tell if you have feet. When people wear these it looks like they have some weird hair disease that ate their feet…or some evil slippers decided to attach themselves and grow up the legs of their wearer.

7.)    Stripper heels. 

I’m all for height when it comes to heels, but let’s not get ridiculous. Not only are these shoes tacky, and remind pretty much everyone of strippers, but they are dangerous! When people wear these they sure are putting a lot of faith on their ankles and toes and it’s definitely not natural to be that high. Might as well wear ones with a coin slot in the platform so you can make a little more money while you’re at it.

8.)    Velcro shoes.

 If you’re under five or over eighty, then okay. But other than that, just stop.

9.)    Heels that tie up the leg. 

I don’t mind sandals or wedges that have a cute little tie around the ankle where you can make a bow. Those are acceptable. What are not acceptable are the heels that tie up to your knee. Why you would ever need to wrap a shoe laces that much around your leg to keep it attached seems very odd to me. It seems like the shoe would probably be fine without it and personally I don’t think it adds anything in terms of the body or for fashion.

10.)  Gladiator sandals. 

I know I may get a lot of backlash for this one since these shoes are in right now, but I personally don’t like them. I think it’s just way too much going on. I have small feet anyway so whenever I’ve tried these sandals on, my feet become lost in all the interweaving straps. I just think they drown out small feet and over exaggerate bigger feet. They’re just not very flattering when it comes to the foot.

There certainly are other shoes I’m not crazy about, but I just wanted to share my opinions about a few that I’m just not a fan of. I just wanted to change it up and I hope I didn’t offend anyone because it was all in good fun.

If you love it, then wear it and be happy! Simple! Who am I or anyone else to judge? 

"Don't Slip Up: My Weekend of Hell"

These are officially the ugliest, most uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever owned.

I think this was the first time in my life that I’ve ever bought shoes that I didn’t love. These shoes were a requirement not a fashion statement, trust me. First of all, they’re uncomfortable. Second of all, slip-on shoes with no buckles or laces are just not okay. They look like clogs but with a back and I don’t usually hate on shoes, but I HATE clogs with a passion. I find them extremely unflattering.

These shoes are made of the weirdest material. It’s like a weird pleather material that just doesn’t want to bend. They also have no arch which means no support, which means they’re uncomfortable. They make my feet literally throb and ache.

I had to buy them because they’re “non-slip” shoes. I started my job at McDonald’s last week and it was a requirement to get them to avoid accidents in the restaurant. My friend Shevawn works at both American Eagle and McDonald’s and helped me get the jobs. I was so excited because the last couple summers I get really restless not having anything to do or any money to spend. Plus, at American Eagle I get a discount which is awesome by itself. (Shoes, shoes, shoes!) You know my position on discounts!

This last weekend, which I now refer to as the “weekend of hell,” I worked 40 plus hours between Friday and Monday. Needless to say…I barely sleep. Saturday and Sunday I slept a total of one hour. I worked 29 hours at McDonald’s and then 12 hours at American Eagle doing floor sets.

The scheduling happened this way because I got the job at American Eagle and agreed to do the floor sets from 9pm to 4am Saturday and Sunday. Right after that I was hired at McDonald’s and immediately put on the schedule...three 8 hour shifts and one 5 and a half hour shift on the weekend. My first reaction was that there is no way I could do this. But then I realized that it was going to happen anyway. And I needed to just decide to give it my all and convince myself that this wasn’t impossible.

But…it practically was impossible.

No human body is meant to work that many hours, with maybe an hour of sleep a day. A body just doesn’t function on one hour of sleep, especially when you’re doing physically demanding work.

At McDonald’s I have to wear a uniform. The shoes are a part of the uniform.  Wearing a uniform is omething I’ve never had to do for a job before. Every job I’ve ever had has been cushy with a capital C. I worked for the Y.M.C.A. where I was paid for literally just hanging out with kids all day. I worked at an office where I did a lot of copies, stapling and shredding. And I’ve worked for a country music station where I basically sat and listened to country music while handing out magnets.

 I wanted the job at McDonald’s because I wanted to challenge myself. I decided it was time for a real job with real expectations, things to strive for and things to learn. I also wanted to be busy and have hours that worked with my schedule. Plus I couldn’t keep something my nonfiction creative writing professor told me the last day of Advanced Non-fiction…

“Any minimum wage, terrible job you have, will just give you some great material.”

Which it already is..I got a blog post out of it! That of course is not the only reason I took the job, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a part of it. If that isn’t dedication to the craft, I’m not sure what is.

I was ready for my new job but I was definitely not ready for the weekend from hell. I was in such a fog that I wasn’t even sure what day it was. I couldn’t sleep for more than 20 minutes without walking up in a panic worried I was late for some shift. All I did for four days was eat, sleep and work. I was working long days and there wasn’t enough sleep, red bull, coffee, or eye drops to get me through it. I couldn’t even see straight at one point and had to beg my American Eagle boss to let me go home a little early for fear I’d pass out or crash.

Working at McDonald’s is definitely interesting. Customers can be very nice but they can also be very mean. I try to put my smile on and be nice to everyone I deal with, but it’s a challenge sometimes. Many people give an order that I read back to them, agree and pay and then get their food complaining that I messed up their order. It’s a frustrating experience but it can also be rewarding. I feel like I’m respected by the people I work with because I pull my weight and there are regular customers that seem to actually like seeing me every morning.  

These ugly shoes did absolutely nothing for me this weekend. I was standing for the whole day and these shoes were killer. I had to get used to standing for long periods of time in general and these shoes just didn’t help me out at all. Basically the moral of the story is I’m getting Dr. Scholls inserts…just kidding.

But seriously, I’ve learned a lot about myself this weekend. I know that people always say that you can do anything you put your mind to and now I can say that I truly believe that statement. There were so many moments this weekend where I wanted to give up. There were so many moments where I said there’s no way I can do another minute, there’s no way I can do another shift. There’s no way I can take another order, or lift another rack of clothes. But I did. When I thought I was going to pass out, I took a couple deep breaths and told myself I would make it. I was proud of myself because I didn’t half-ass it either, I worked extremely hard and busted my ass to prove to both employers that I could pull my weight. If you ever think you can't get through your shift and your feet ache and your back is killing you and customers are driving you crazy just put a smile on and push through. Because I've realized after this weekend that relaxing after accomplishing something like that is an amazing feeling that feels even better than a day off. 

I told myself to just look forward to it being over so I could sit and just relax and do nothing. I’ve never been so excited to simply sit and rest. 

"Hitting The Pavement"

The other day, my boyfriend and I were able to get away for the weekend. 

We went up to Lake Placid NY and stayed with my dad and step-mom at the Whiteface Lodge, a vacation condo my Dad gets every 6 weeks for a week.

It was a beautiful day out. One of the nicest days we’ve had in a long time. 80 degrees, blue skies and a nice breeze. It was definitely a dress and heels day. I was excited I had somewhere “fancy” to wear my heels and the weather certainly complied.I was excited to get out of the house and have an amazing weekend. I was hoping to get some sun at the pool, eat some yummy dinner and then go sit out and stare at the view.

The Whiteface Lodge is one of my favorite places in the world to be. It smells like a pine tree 24/7 and its dream like when it gets dark. The trees are decked out in lights and the whole place glows. There are campfires at night and a heated pool. Our room has a kitchen, two bathrooms, and they give you cookies at your door every night. Basically it’s “luxury camping.”

We all went out to dinner. My dad and I got pot roast and it was filling and delicious. The sun was setting on the lake and from where we were sitting in the restaurant, we had the perfect picture.

After dinner, we stopped at the grocery store to get some beer and wine. Between my father’s bad hip and my high heels, we walked pretty slowly through the store but we got what we needed. Slowly but surely. Besides being a little uneasy on the floor mats and a little sluggish on the stairs, it was fine. I knew I looked good, so walking came second.

When we got back to the lodge, we dropped my dad and step-mom off at the entrance and drove down the steep hill to the parking lot. We had to walk back up and we decided to go the long way. It was beautiful out and now that the sun was down it was more comfortable and less sweaty.

We walked up the hill and joked about how full we were and how we’d have some beers and then go to the hot tub. Jake was walking ahead of me, complaining how I walk slowly in heels.

“Practice makes perfect!” I yelled up to him.

The next thing I know, I was down on the pavement. It happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react. Jake spun around and ran back to me. I squatted on the ground and looked down at my knee, which was throbbing. Blood ran down my left leg. My right ankle was pulsing with pain. My hands were scraped from the pavement and tears streamed down my face.

Jake rubbed my back and found the rock I had stepped on, and teetered on, and threw it forcefully into the woods. The nicest guy I know, angry at an inanimate rock.

I was embarrassed. I thought I could walk in these shoes and suddenly I had blood on my knee, a huge scrape and a twisted ankle. I didn’t want to face my dad and step-mom and Jake just saw me go from sexy to crying and bleeding in about 3 seconds. I was humiliated. I have a shoe blog and I can’t even walk in my own shoes. I tell other people to “take a walk in my shoes,” well prepare for a wipe out.

I thought of all the stories I could tell my dad and step-mom besides simply tripping over a rock. Oh..you, know..a squirrel just went at it on my knee, it was crazy. Yeah this lady just pushed me out of the way and I went down, guess she was in a hurry for the pool. Hmm, don’t think they would’ve bought it.

Jake brought me to the front desk and I limped behind him. We got band aids and Neosporin. I held his hand and we shuffled down the long hallway. I sniffled and tears kept escaping out the corner of my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the embarrassment, or both.

We got back to the room and I went straight to the bathroom, ripped off my heels and applied the ointment and band-aids and refused to come out. Jake texted me from the living room as he tried to explain the situation to my dad. I didn’t feel like coming out and hearing them say that I shouldn’t wear shoes like that and that I didn’t know how to walk in them.

When I finally wiped my tears and decided to face the music I came out. I was surprised to find that I received hugs, ice, a glass of wine and a warmed up cookie. I guess I didn’t give them enough credit.

Jake and I eventually ventured up to the hot tub. I submerged my scraped up knee and screamed when the chlorine burned. Jake and I laughed it off and I forgot about my embarrassment, my bloody knee and my twisted ankle. A hot tub and a few laughs really help you heal faster. I even eventually went back into that bathroom, picked my heels up and put them back on. If there's anything I've learned from horseback riding it's that you need to get right back on the horse when you fall off. Same goes for shoes. 

Now I don’t want to get too specific, but I’ve been dealing with a lot of personal things since being home for the summer. I’ve been doubting myself a lot lately. Doubting that I can handle it. I’m trying to get through but sometimes I fall down. Sometimes I doubt myself and I lose balance and BOOM I’ve hit the pavement.

I came to terms with the fact that we all fall down sometimes. Literally and figuratively. And yeah, it’s embarrassing and yeah, I thought I was done with scraped knees after I stopped riding my bike five years ago. We can’t all walk perfectly all the time and sometimes there’s going to be a little factor, a small little rock, a small little comment, a small little insecurity, and we fall down. Hard. But we get up and whether we have someone helping us up or we muster up the strength ourselves, we get there and we can look back and say, “that’s where I fell, but look at me now.”

Today my knee is purple and scabbed over, just the in time for the summer where more skin is exposed than ever. But my knee is healing slowly, and I guess I am too.