The Pain We Endure

...in the name of style.

I eagerly put my tootsies into my new caramel Marshall Fields pumps on Monday morning. With black slacks and a chocolate merino v-neck, they added a little splash of color, a la the Real J.

H drove me part way to work (I love him, I really do), and then I was sitting at my desk all day.

Then I got up to go home. And let's just say that walking was slow. Really, really slow. Somehow, in the couple of hours I was at my desk, my lovely new shoes had shrunk about 4 sizes and I felt like a geisha with bound feet. Getting to the metro was ok (not even a block), as was changing cars at Metro Center. But the long walk up my infuriatingly uphill street, lugging a heavy rolling computer bag? Not pleasant. I had to stop several times. I found myself praying that the light would change to red so I could stand still and rest at the intersections. It's only a 4 block walk, maybe 5, but my feet were literally shaking, and barely holding me up. I've never experienced anything like it. No blisters, so no amount of Bodyglide was going to help. Only taking them off. Which I did. As soon as I hit my elevator.

I was sorely (no pun intended, honest) disappointed. They were really so comfortable on Sunday night in the store. Maybe a teeny blister, by way of the peep toe, but manageable. I had no idea. Especially since they're Brasilian-made. We checked before we bought them (yes, we're shoe manufacturing snobs). Brasilian shoes seem to fit my feet, as proven by my Daslu boots and Chie Mihara pumps.

So it's socks and clomping around the house for a little while, in the hopes of breaking these suckers in. Granted, I'm only "out" 34 bucks if they don't break in, but still, I have such high hopes for them.