I'm No Cinderella

I've lived in Michigan my entire life so you would think I would have thicker skin. Or blood. Or whatever it is that I'm supposed to have. I should be accustomed to the drafts of cold air sneaking in from underneath doors and around the windows, but, alas, I am convinced I was born in the wrong state. After about October 15th, my toes say goodbye to their freedom as I lovingly place my flip flops in the closet where they sleep away the winter, clinging to the last specs of sand from their lazy summer days at the beach. Whispering "see you in the Spring," I close the closet door and realize that as the weather gets colder and my toes turn blue, my socks just don't measure up. Even my SmartWools can't warm up the ice cubes that were once my toes. (Though, they are without a doubt the best socks I've ever worn. If you've never had a pair of SmartWools, do yourself a favor and get some. They're worth the $10 a pair. And they're not even paying me to say that)

So after a few weeks of stealing Nicole's slippers when she's not around, I meander over to Kohl's during lunch yesterday to find all of the slippers on sale! Every kind of slipper I ever dreamed of - flip flops, booties, mules, ballet, moccasins, fur-lined, terry cloth. I'm overwhelmed with choices but my toes literally tingle with excitement at the promises of warmth in each aisle of fuzzy yummy slippers.

After 20 minutes of walking through each aisle and picking up each pair, turning them over, squeezing them, petting them, (you know you do it too) I begin to wonder why it is that, unlike shoes, no one ever tries on slippers in the store. They're just as important as shoes as far as fit and function, maybe even more so. We've all bought uncomfortable shoes for the sake of fashion, but uncomfortable slippers would completely defeat the purpose. Not to mention the fact that slippers don't come in sizes like shoes do - all the more reason to slip one on before buying.

But yet I don't do it for fear of committing some kind of unspoken social faux pas, some unwritten rule that says you can't remove your shoes in the slipper aisle or you'll be banished from the department store with a scarlet S forever branded on your forehead.

Maybe it's because slippers are intimate and considered more of an undergarment because, while they are worn on the outside of clothing, they are almost never worn outside the house. Maybe it's because no one actually ever goes slipper shopping for themselves because they'll inevitably get a pair for Christmas from Aunt Martha. Or maybe it's simply that you can't get your foot inside of a pair of slippers in the store because they are stapled together, tied up with a ribbon or nestled inside of a sealed box, leaving you to squeezing and petting them as you close your eyes and imagine yourself in your bathrobe and your new pair of slippers scuffling along your kitchen floor.

Thirty minutes pass and I've already had three different pairs of slippers in my hands. Too girly... Not girly enough... Too hard... Too soft... I morph into a combination of Goldilocks and Cinderella before I finally settle on a pair of light blue, yummy soft, mule slippers on sale for eight bucks - a small price to pay for warmth.