As my iPod whispered sweet nothings into its speakers, I wiped away the cob webs that had accumulated from a year’s worth of neglect. I promised, this time, to treat it with respect and dignity. I swore (on Girl Scout’s honor) never to use obscene hand gestures ever again. After a few test runs, it was clear the treadmill and I had buried the hatchet.
Next I had to make a withdrawal from my children’s college fund so I could purchase a pair of “running” shoes from a store that specializes in, of all things, running shoes! Upon my arrival the man asked me what I was looking for. ME: “A pair of running shoes.” HIM: “Do you run frequently?” ME: “No offense but does this body LOOK like it runs anywhere but to be first at the buffet line?” HIM: Snicker, laugh, eye roll
After 45 minutes walking around the store with old shoes, no shoes and 17 different kids of new shoes he tells me there is a problem. ME: “Of course there is a problem because this whole thing is a joke.” I tell him. “Do you want to here it? My joke?” HIM: “Not really.” ME: “Ok then. What could possibly be a problem” HIM: “Well, your feet are sooooo wide that I do not sell a woman’s shoe wide enough to fit your “running” foot properly.” ME: Blank stare. HIM: “Soooo, that last shoe you tried on is a men’s seven and a half quadruple extra wide. That is THE only shoe I have that will fit you properly” ME: “Of course. Sooooo does this shoe come with a WIDE LOAD sign so people behind me will know not to get too close to the sides of my feet?” HIM: “The register is that way.” ME: “Thanks for your help.”
(…to be continued)
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