My mother was at it again today. She told me she had been to Nordstrom's and seen the most beautiful shoes she had ever seen. That isn't the problem, of course. The problem was that she told me this while I had a mouth full of crispy beef taco and she didn't want to go straight there once I swallowed.
Who is this woman? Little girls often fantasize that they are secret princesses and that someday our true family will come and get us and restore us to our throne and crown. Well, I fantasized about that until I left for college; by then I had to admit that my secret royal blood was going to have to remain a secret since my secret family was allowing me to go off into the world without their acknowledgment. Cold bastards!
The point remains, I think I was on to something all those years ago; I cannot believe the woman who claims to be my mother would not see the wisdom in immediately putting down our forks and heading straight to Nordstrom's to see these beautiful of all beautiful shoes. Clearly, she was the wet nurse who somehow got saddled with my blue blooded fabulousness. It's not unlike a fairy tale with a more realistic ending: the fairy princess is forced to suffer the slings and arrows of fate in Dallas with a limited budget and the misunderstanding of the people who are supposed to love and understand her. Let's face it, fabulosas: the only royalty in my life are men who have a fondness for interior design and fabulous hair.
If you think you might be my royal family, send me shoes. I've suffered long enough.
Today's favorite shoe:
Tuesday, June 26, 2007