The agony of the shoe boot

Before I had even left the house this morning, I could see a problem with my choice of outfit - unable to skip down the stairs of my flat in my usual rushed manner. The shoe boots were to blame, but since I had worn them to a nearby restaurant without discomfort not so long ago, I reasoned that it was just stairs that were tricky, and that with a few strides down the street I would feel smart and professional. It was at this point that a silver haired lady strode past me at what seemed like record speed.

Crossing the pelican crossing felt painfully slow and when I finally had managed to get a full ten minutes away from my house (about 400 meters in these shoes!) I noticed that my silk tunic had risen up and twisted around full circle, bunching up around my middle giving me the appearance of someone with a built in air-bag.

Then to the last leg on the street before getting to the the station, and I manage to trip over my heel right before the bored workmen; which immediately dissolves any ideas I had that I might still be looking grown up and sophisticated. Oh well, caught the bus and managed to sit through about 2 stops before I gave in to the sting from my feet and swapped for my good ol' (faithful and worn out) ballet pumps. So I think I'll hang up my shoe boots (aka beautiful cages of pain) for another day or two, or stick to wearing them in flat, carpeted areas with no workmen near!