Ow! No really, OW!!!

I have these shoes.

Okay, well I have many, many, many shoes.

But I have these particular shoes. They're cute. They're grey, with brown leather trim, they're cut super low on the foot so they show a little toe cleavage (wait, is that gross?), they're slingbacks, they've got sturdy heels of a reasonable height...they ought to be comfortable. I've got heels twice as high that fit like bunny slippers.

And yet, each time I wear them they hurt just a little bit worse than that last time.

Pain. Painful. They are somewhere on the pain scale between Jennifer Lopez' nightgown-slash-death shroud that she wore on "American Idol" tonight and Jennifer Lopez' "singing" on "American Idol" tonight.

So the only way to walk in them is to sort of jut my hips forward, and sit back on my heels as though I'm carrying a load in my pants, or am Ed Grimley. I should really walk like Ed Grimley all the time. It's like, everyone thought he was just a dweeb, but really he was just a man who led with his crotch. Shouldn't we all?

But seriously, these shoes. I'm so torn. I don't want to ditch them, I would never abandon any of my babies. I have a pair of fricking size 9 gold pumps from Target that are waaaay too big for me, but I just stuff a little TP in them bitches and strut my shit.

A girl's not gonna give up on her shoes just because they lived a previous life as a damn bear trap (though she'd prefer it if they'd lived their previous life as a bear claw, at least those are soft and mooshy--not to mention delicious).

(Actually that's kind of appropriate. Becuase I left a number off of yesterday's Weekly Numbers. "Number of pounds less than a North American giant Grizzly Bear I weigh currently: Approximately six.")