Why DSW Shoes Makes Me Mental - Part I

I hauled myself to Greensboro today for a bit of shoe shopping. Long time readers of this blog are familiar with my feelings about shopping, namely that I loathe it. Still, I couldn't put it off any longer. I needed--not wanted, not craved, but really truly needed--black flats. 

My options were to spend my time wandering in and out of small boutiques in the hopes of finding something fashionable and affordable, or taking the shot-in-the-ass approach known as shopping at DSW Shoe Warehouse.

The fact that the word "warehouse" is part of the name should tell you something. Aisle upon aisle upon aisle upon AISLE of nothing but shoes. Standing at the front door looking in was enough to make my eyes bleed. Still, I'm a warrior so I forged ahead. 

I have a theory about why I don't like shopping. It's because I'm too afraid to commit. It's not enough that I find a pair of shoes I like. I have to then go through the entire store in case there are a better pair of shoes out there. I tell myself if I just grab the shoes and leave, I'll never need know if there was in fact a better pair and I can just be happy with what I have. But no, I'm not buying it. Because there might also be a better CHEAPER pair and people, I just can't walk away from that. 

Fast forward 45 minutes and I'm sitting in the twelfth row of DSW surrounded by size 8 1/2 black flats riddled with ridiculous amounts of bows, feathers, and fake jewels. (Hello, shoe designers? I don't wear boas and costume jewelry on my body and I certainly don't want them on my feet.)

Anyway, I'm sitting there wondering if I can score an aspirin off the old lady next to me trying on stiletto heels cut from the same cloth as Dorothy's magic red shoes in Oz (big date, grandma?) when I decide I've had enough. Screw it. I'm only going to throw these shoes on with an old sweater and jeans anyway and I can't bear to spend one more single moment in this store or thinking about shoes. I grab the box closest to me and run to the cash register.

When I open the box at home, damn if there isn't rhinestone jewelry all over the tips of these things. I don't care. I'm wearing them. Rhinestones are my new fashion statement. 

Frankly, I'm just grateful I didn't grab the shoes with the boa attachment.

COMING SOON. PART II: Justifications, Excuses, and Lies...Oh My!