Gentlemen, you might find this boring

The main mission I had this spring break, aside from sleeping loads (sort of check) and wearing the same clothes as much as possible (double check) was to find a pair of shoes for Stacy's sister's (Kim's) wedding. Note: not the PERFECT pair of shoes, but just "a pair of shoes." I am not reaching for the stars here.

Why I entered the search with this attitude is because years of withering disappointment and teeth grinding frustration have left me with the realization that I, Adrianna Klara Gyorfi, cannot possibly wear anything remotely trendy, sexy, or stylish without:

1. popping (inappropriately) out of places
2. looking like a fool
3. breathing

This realization came sometime in elementary school. I remember the day also when I discovered this law applied to shoes when I was standing around shopping with my mom, sulking over the fact that I could not fit into anything at the Limited Too, when I was all "Well, at least I can wear ANY PAIR OF SHOE I WANT, because ANYONE can fit into shoes." Then I went over, picked up the strappiest sandals I could find, and discovered that lo, I could not fit into the shoes.

That was a very dark day.

Since that time, I have realized that life does go on without a pair of jeans from the Limited Too, and actually, the Limited Too TOTALLY SUX. Although those large flowers with the smiley faces were TOTALLY KOOL. However, years of wisdom and trial-and-error have only very slowly conditioned me to realize that shoes, they are just meant to take many years off a girl's life, and to cause her very serious pain.

Granted, my feet have never been the most cooperative part of my body. They whine in protest each time I put on a different pair, and it takes many, many, MANY weeks to break in a new pair of shoes. And during those many weeks, there are many hours of absolutely crippling pain to look forward to when walking. There were 3 times in Rome when I experienced this. This pain where I was all "Either I start crawling right now, start to cry, or just walk barefoot through the streets of one of the dirtiest streets in Europe." Two times I stuck it out. The third time I decided the pain was not worth it, and walked barefoot home. The soles of my feet never looked better.

Needless to say, my feet crave pampering. They do not care to come in contact with things with straps, or with things that have less than an inch of padding in them. This, however, means that it's impossible to shop for a shoe for a wedding, or to look good by modern-day, normal people standards. Because the most stylish I can get now are house slippers or rain boots. Sandals have to fulfill certain requirements, like:

1. Cannot have a supporting strap right at the pinky bone
2. Has to have the inner foot area covered
3. Should preferably have a strap in the bag, as I hate the slapping sound in formal footwear
4. There should be a supporting strap right in the middle that sort of squeezes all the extra skin in around the midsection of my foot

Try to picture what a sandal like this would look like. It would be horrendous looking. And most likely come in the ugliest colors ever.

I look for things mostly with concrete specifications in mind, and I had a selection of the ugliest shoes conceivable to man kind. I already have the dress (which, currently, I can zip up. Improvement! Breathing is totally an optional recreational activity in it) so the shoe was the only variable in the equation. Which did not allow much wiggle room. The shoes out there, some of them had parts thinner than hair strands! And less straps than the frayed thread hanging off my sleeve! And there is a proportion in price: the less shoe there is, the more it costs.

So this post is basically bemoaning my sad situation. And now I'm exhausted from all that hard work I had to do this quarter and must lie down for a while. I need a foot rub.