Heartbreak

Everyone has done it bought those shoes that were really too expensive, worn them on the big night out and realized half way through that these shoes they don't fit so great. As the evening progresses they get more and more uncomfortable and as you are standing there with your martini in hand you begin to realize that these shoes don't fit at all, that your heel surely does not have an ounce of skin left on it, that if you don't get these shoes off of your feet immediately any given second you may just shout in pain and discomfort. So you cut the evening short, limp home trying not to think about the fact that your toes have now swelled to the size of mini sausages, and you must have at least 5 blisters on each heel. Finally when you get home and can get those overpriced, ugly looking beasts off of you, you find the root of the problem. There it is a huge blister on your left foot. That huge open wound that is throbbing with pain, that hurts so bad you swear you will never wear heels ever again, and you are unsure if tennis shoes will even work, and there on the floor are the inflictors of this pain those stupid shoes you bought from that stupid salesman. The shoes that made you feel beautiful, confident, a better form of yourself, the ones that told you that they were proud of you for being so successful at your job, they loved the way you looked with no make-up on, the two of you would be best friends forever, the connection is so strong, I want to marry you. Aaaaaahhh yes those very shoes that have now caused you to have this major blister that will surely leave a scar thus changing you forever, and yet you cannot bring yourself to throw them away. They are really cute and maybe someday after you've lost those ten pounds died your hair blonde and are driving something really chic, maybe then they'll fit. So I put them in my closet where they clutter and collect space with the other unfitting shoes and everytime I see them they are like little reminders, wrong choice bad evening, wrong choice bad evening. How many more evenings do I really get and will I end up with shoes that give me blisters forever?