Skechers

Yes, those expensive shoes that are touted to give you a work out just by walking in them. Sounds like a real scam--work out by walking? I saw a woman at the gym with these shoes and I asked her about them--do they work? She said that she liked them a lot, but that they were really, really expensive. How much I asked, not shy at all. $100. Ouch.



But weight watchers was a bust, so I'm looking for miracles. I got a yoga ball. One of the guys at the office replaced his desk chair with a yoga ball, so I thought I would replace my piano bench with the yoga ball. Not so much. At first it was really too low, so I was going to go out and buy the next size up, but Pete told me, no you have to put more air in it--even if you think the darn thing will pop--put more air in it. I did again and again and again. It is now at a comfortable height, but still just slightly too low for the piano. Besides I don't want Caitlyn to try to sit on it, her little body would be flung across the room. Anyhoo, I sit on the ball to watch tv sometimes. It makes my stomach hurt. Normally that would be a bad thing, things that make my stomach hurt, but I'm thinking it is probably working my stomach muscle (novel idea to be sure) and so, probably a good thing. Counter intuitive, but good. Sad and demented, but good (wasn't that a line in the Breakfast Club, but I digress.)



So the same day that I forked out $27 for the ball and I decided to go all in and I stopped at the Lady Footlocker store. I walked right up to the skecher display and picked up the one closest to me and then looked for someone to help me. We're in a recession, right? Shouldn't they WANT to sell me something? There were two people working there. One had the whole wall of product down and was redoing the display. She was up on a ladder. There were two other customers in the place. The other guy was helping one of the other customers, so I waited. That's reasonable. I listened in. The customer was asking him a question. He walked away without answering her as though he wasn't listening. He didn't walk away to help the other customer or me, he just walked away and was behind the counter. Maybe he knew the customer he walked away from, because she didn't seem to mind in the least and she kept looking.

While I was trying to process all of this I thought heck, no one gets on the bus unless they push their way on (a lesson learned on Vernor highway in my high school days). I went up to the guy and showed him the shoe that I wanted and said, I need this in 71/2 wide. He rudely (yes that is the only way to describe his attitude) said, they don't come in wide. Fine, may I please have this in a 7 1/2. He said, you know those are $100? I told you he was rude. Yes, I said. He signed loudly and went into the back. He came out with about six boxes and gave them all to the other two customers. Now I really didn't understand the dynamics--he wasn't even listening to them, but he brought them out shoes to try on. He left again and I contemplated leaving and going to a different shoe store. This was insane. Then he came out and handed me a box and then turned around and went back to the counter to play on his computer. The shoe didn't fit in size 7 1/2, so I stated loudly from my spot to him behind the counter that I would need it in size 8. He came back as though I were killing him, took the box and went back into the stock room. He came out with a new box and then turned to help the other customers. I tried on the size 8 and they fit.



But they didn't just fit. They made me feel like I was floating. My feet hurt all the time, but they were so comfy in those shoes. They didn't hurt. I had to have these shoes, for it is money I have and comfy I lack. Now I just had to make that sales person take my money before I killed him. It is funny that my mind never went to stealing them as an option--just murder.



[As a side note, Dad got a card in the mail--a real plastic substantial card with his name engraved on it from the NRA. Dad usually throws that kind of junk mail stuff away, but for some reason opened that one. He is an NRA card carrying person. Those people have no idea what they are playing with. If I ever had a real gun, no one would be safe. It boggles my mind, but I digress.]

I took out my credit card and stood at the counter with my shoes in a box. It took several minutes, but the sales person finally walked the other customer up to the counter and took her money. When she was all done, he sighed and resigned himself to take my money too. Psychicly I could feel him looking for an excuse not to help me, but he didn't have any excuse. My brain was screaming "grab your credit card (I wish it was gold for just this occasion) and tell him, you work on commission, big mistake, huge, I have to go shopping" and leave. But I didn't. I signed my name and walked out with my new shoes.

So it has been a few weeks of wearing these shoes. The first day was kind of scary--the shoes are not straight on the bottom. You kind of feel off balanced wearing them. I started scrunching up my toes because I was afraid I was going to fall. Then after a few more days of wearing them, my thighs hurt--a lot. Of course, my first thought was cancer, but then I realized it was the old thigh muscles getting a work out. Walking on the shoes (that's what it feels like, walking on them, not in them) is like walking on sand. And they are heavy. But they are soft and cushie too. I wear them to walk from my car to piano class--a long walk up hill--now that is a work out.

Don't get me wrong--it's not a miricle--I'm still fat, but its one small (comfy) step for health.