Tuesday, February 27, 2007


This weekend I'm going away to an actual Big City and I'm kind of terrified. Not only that, but I have to go out in this big city and you all know what that means: I have to find something to wear. At this point my only option, really, is to go shopping and try to find something that A) Won't bankrupt me and B) that I have enough money on my debit to purchase because my credit card has expired.

My main problem, of course, is finding some sort of acceptable footwear. I own one pair of black leather shoes that rip my feet to ribbons each and every time I wear them, and I'm tired of my feet looking as though they've been on the set of a horror movie every time they come in from a night out. My other option is my hooker boots, which I love. Oh, hooker boots, how I could sing your praises from now till all eternity. The problem is that I bought them back in 2003 and I'm ever so certain that they are so far away from being fashionable any longer that I may be ridiculed and refused entrance into any clubs I may try to get into while in the Big City. Occasionally I've snuck into less classy joints in Docs, but I don't think this will cut it in a real city.

Tentatively, I've staved off the anxiety over getting on the right train and ending up at the right station, for now. I've now channeled it into other, more pertinent issues like what the Hell I'm supposed to wear and should I pack my whole makeup bag? Or just the pieces I use regularly?

This trip is going to be the death of me, I'm sure.


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