Photos. Spring wedges.

Nope, didn’t get them. Waiting for them to go on sale. Hope they’re still there. I have non-pretty feet, but the guy there had a blast putting me in all kinds of shoes (no, he was not being a perv; he plays for the other team). I asked him, “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I was born and raised in Manhattan. How did you guess?”

“Uh-huh. I noticed most of the guys who notice my shoes are from New York (not that this happens a lot). Doesn’t matter about orientation or age or class.” L.A. guys seem much more casual. They notice my dresses more, or maybe my hair or something.

Anyway, every pair that he chose had every girl walking by drooling. They actually paused shopping and came over to watch. It was funny. Except I was very self-conscious. I have calluses, one foot with cracked heel, and bunions (that thing when the bone on the big toe swells, which is why I was looking for more forgiving open toe shoes). My feet are long and skinny and cramming them into shoes that are too short and wide, even when or especially in those ballet flats I used to wear constantly, cause problems. Oh, sorry if I spoiled the photos with that description. Anyway, that stuff didn’t really photograph for some reason. Or maybe it’s not as bad as I think.