I bought a new pair of boots a couple of weeks ago. I thought it was a bargain. Not because it was particularly cheap, but because it was exactly what I needed. Black boots, flat heels, high legs. It was not perfect, but I know myself. It's either the first thing I see that fits my needs, or I would keep looking for the perfect pair forever (I would then buy the perfect one, only to find a more perfect one the next day). So, I bought these boots.
I didn't notice, however, that the sole was completely flat. I had the chance to realise that only last week, when I finally hit the pavement again to go to school -previously I spent most of the time at home, typing the three articles a day I had to submit for my internship. So, I hit the pavements wearing my brand new boots, strutting, feeling proud and sexy, and then... I slip. Oh my Gosh. A man looks at me commiserating and goes: "Watch out!"
Since last week I've collected several warnings, piteous looks, friendly smiles and a couple of chuckles, too. There goes my adventure in my new boots, as if London's pavements weren't dangerous enough! Every single day I almost fall at least a couple of times. Today I scored an impressive 7 times: 3 on my way to uni and 4 on my way home. Temperatures have plummeted below zero last night so the streets were still a bit frosty.
My reaction is usually a sigh of relief for not having broken my legs -tonight I almost did the splits. Luckily, I am self-ironic. I also giggle, whisper swear words (just in Italian, cause it's more effective) and pull myself together praying it won't happen again. Until I slip again and think: "What a bargain?! I should put tacks underneath my boots, like a soccer player! Or at least buy a helmet!"
But there they are, my brand new boots: exactly what I needed, although not death proof.
No comments:
Post a Comment