Some women are put on the planet to make the rest of us feel like genetic after birth. Rar! Such a woman happened to be shopping at Macy’s at the same time I was today. It had to be the day I wore my pill-ridden black work pants (they were the only ones not wrinkled!) and horizontal striped top (fatteninggg!). And I had on moon boots to weather the slush and snow on my commute home. Moon boots! Salt stained moon boots and my five-year old tan down coat. I felt like a yard gnome some old woman dressed up seasonally.
In walks olive skin and pouty lips and fabulous flowing hair and stems for miles and trendy shoes.
I was at the store returning a bunch of stuff for my birthday-lovely things, but I had my heart set on a pair of black boots. And through the racks of sales detritus I spot my darling, darling mile high, mid-calf, lace ups. These!
Sexy boots at bargain prices make me happy
I grabbed them and got the sales man’s attention. Pouty lips was standing up front too, looking drop dead gorge. She also wanted his attention, and might have gotten it first, except it was my lucky day. He was gay! Gay and helping me first and he had my size, the last size left. She had picked out a nice pair of kicks, but I could tell from the extra sexy pout and the hungry eyes that she wanted my hot boots more. I tried my boots on as she looked forlorn and waited for sales man to retrieve her shoes. They didn’t have her size-the same as my size. Justice thy name is Macy’s shoe department!
