When it rains, it pours, at least that has been the case in New York City (as in much of the world) for the past two days. Unluckily, on my way back from physical therapy (with my totally awesome physical therapist, Marco, who just gave me a pedometer, and who totally rocks), I got caught in it.
Now, these are the shoes I should have been wearing:
But, practicality with shoes has never been my strong part, something my ex-boyfriend never let me forget (one more reason to be glad he's gone). Being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis changes you forever, but evidently, it doesn't change everything about you forever. Now that my meds have kicked in and I'm feeling more human again, my vanity and attachment to cute shoes has resurfaced.
I thought I'd never be able to wear heels again (one could argue that I shouldn't, but let's not go there right now), which might seem like a shallow and stupid thing to lament when your health has just gone kaput, but what can I say, just like my grandmother, I've always had a thing for shoes, so on a day like today, when I wake up and my now infamous toe isn't screaming at me and feels (gasp!) almost normal, and even when the NPR weatherman tells me it's going to rain cats and dogs, these are the shoes I put on instead:
As with so many things in life, though, I did kind of pay for it in the end, because when the sky falls, you do not want to be sloshing around in ankle-deep run off from New York City streets (gross, gross, gross), nonetheless, that is what I did.
My own damn fault? Undoubtedly. Worth it to look cute and feel normal again? So far, yes.