Remember that online shopping ban Scott made me commit to?
We’re barely past the first week and may have, kind of, possibly, sort of broken it already.
On a pair of shoes.
But what if I told you these weren’t just any shoes….they were Sam Edelman shoes?
And that they weren’t an impulse buy as I’ve been swooning over them for no less than three months?
Still not convinced? Would your opinion be swayed if I happened to mention they were ordered at the last-minute to be worn at tomorrow night’s Justin Timberlake concert?
My beloved size 7 cage toe booties have been sold out for ages. You can see how when I received this email earlier in the week, I took it as a sign that they needed to be ordered immediately. For Justin’s sake.
Let’s just say it’s a personal philosophy of mine that when Nordstrom sends you an email telling you to hurry the eff up and buy a pair of shoes, you listen.
And that, blog friends, is how I wound up charging these bad boys to our Amex card, complete with an extra fee for expedited shipping. (Once again….it was for Justin’s sake.)
I felt quite pleased with myself for nabbing the heels just in time for the concert. They’d perfectly compliment the dress I’d ordered from Rent the Runway, but would also serve as a closet staple I could wear over and over. I congratulated myself on having the insight (and cahones) to bend the rules when necessary.
And then I sprained my ankle.
Last night while teaching Turbo Kick I landed very very poorly on my right foot while coming down from a plyometric knee strike. It rolled, I tripped, and then just hopped around on leg while yelling cues to the rest of the class, miming the choreography with only my upper body. I then instructed everyone to grab a mat. We spent fifteen minutes doing countless leg and hip pulses that looked awkwardly inappropriate, but were literally the only thing I could do without disturbing my injury. Sometimes, improvisation means forcing a group of adults to perform 134 hip thrusts while loudly yelling, “I promise…this is good for your glutes!”
While I’m happy to report I at least had the sense to sprain my right ankle instead of reinjuring the left one, I realized this morning that this sprain is much worse. Despite copious amounts of ibuprofen and ice, I’ve found myself crawling around the house on all fours as it’s significantly faster and less painful than walking, which has been extremely confusing to both Penny and Jolie. Truth be told, I probably need crutches, but refuse to use them, if only out of pride. Also? I’d rather spend the money on more shoes.
Speaking of that….did I mention the JT concert is tomorrow night? I can’t help but think this is the universe’s sick, twisted way of punishing me for breaking the online-shopping fast.
Point taken, universe.
If, by some miracle of orthopedics I’m even able to wear my new shoes to the concert, I’ll most likely be limping around like a pirate on a peg leg. A fabulous, Sam Edelman peg leg….but a peg leg nonetheless.
Universe: If you want to make it up to me, perhaps you could align things so that Justin sees me hobbling about, assumes the worst, and invites me on-stage to perform an I-feel-sorry-for-you-serenade?
Just a suggestion.