I am a traitor to my sex.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, I have no interest in shoes. Not for me, the thousand dollar Manolo Blahniks. You can keep your Jimmy Choos too.
Give me a pair of Doc Martins any day over those over-priced torture devices.
(more)I could happily live out the rest of my life in my Uggs. Although neither my Docs nor my Uggs do any justice to my feet, to me it's all about the comfort-factor.
Sometimes I wish I loved wearing heels because I can rock a pair of stilettos with the best of them,but at a hair shy of 5'10 in my bare feet I already tower over most people in my life.
Yeah, I know, poor excuse, right? But it's all I got.
That's not true, what I got is a pair of killer legs and dancer's feet. A nice high arch, perfectly formed toes and a long stretch of legs nearly reaching up to my neck. Even when I was a little girl men remarked on how beautifully shaped my legs were and I've only gotten better with age.
Hey, we gotta work with what we were given and I was given a great set of gams which look spectacular in thigh-high stockings and spike-heel shoes.
So why do I waste them by stuffing them into clunky boots?
I should take advantage of my God-given gifts and shake my money-maker while wearing a pair of tastefully decadent black spike-heel shoes with a nice four-inch heel to show off my long lean legs.
With my luck though,the minute I slip my feet into a sexy pair of pumps will be the exact minute the Zombie Apocalypse starts.
If I have to run for my life, give me Uggs or give me death.(less)
