Today’s theme is Financial Friday, largely because I don’t have a date tonight (thank you very much Ward), but don’t despair. I will not be sitting at home alone watching reruns of Friends while eating chips and dip with the cat (bet no one is surprised that I have a cat). Tonight is the retirement party that I have been planning for weeks. FYI, for those keeping score, US postal service & Canada post 1 and me 0, as in 0 gift to give because the sculpture has still not arrived and may never.
This morning my boss told me that if I had anything that needed to be done for the party to just go and do it. I did have a couple of things to do before tonight, but I also needed new shoes for the party. I should clarify; when I say I “needed” new shoes for the party, I mean in the way that I some one says I need a chocolate bar or I need a paper weight. No one ever really needs those things, especially the paper weight. What the hell is with paper weights anyway? Where are you working that there is such a breeze that you require a heavy object to hold the paper down on your desk? Back to the shoes; in no way am I walking around barefoot with or with toes protruding from my boots. Nevertheless, there’s a party tonight, and I “needed” new shoes.
Since my boss pointed out that anything I needed to do for the party, I could do during work time, I figured the shoe shopping fell into that category. I went to the shoe store and, much to my dismay, they had no party shoes. Everything was all fall and wintery with boots galore. Now I’m an equal opportunist and I wasn’t about to turn my nose up at boots, however I have a history of something I like to call “fat calve syndrome” or FCS for short. Many of us suffer from FCS. It’s a cruel disorder which is debilitating in this age of tall fashion boots. When I walked in the door I noticed some lovely boots called “eco” boots made entirely of recycled material. My friends, these boots were a thing of beauty, you might even say booty. You probably wouldn’t because that word has a totally different meaning depending on if you’re a pirate or Beyonce. I picked them up, testing the waters a bit. They were magnificent. But I walked away feeling in my heart that FCS would yet again be the crux of my boot desire. Then I found another pair of boots, not nearly as pretty, but that seemed like they might be stretchier for the calves. I got them on, I did them up!! They didn’t make my calves look like they were wrestling to break free of the boots! But they were hideous. So I went back to the beautiful eco boots, so pretty and good for the environment. I decided to try one on. I put one tentative right foot into the boot, held my breath and prepared to zip. By the crikey!!! They did up. And the even left room for skinny jeans to be tucked in! Tucked in people, this is a big day. Before I got ahead of myself I remember I have two feed and the lefty is bigger then the righty. I stopped jumping up and down, which seemed to put the the shoe store staff at ease and saddled up for round two with the left foot. OH MY GOD!! It fit too. I went to the mirror, pants rolled up like a hillbilly at a fishing derby. They were glorious. I could even picture wearing a skirt with these boots, in public.
Now comes the lesson in finance. In an unseen twist of cruel fate, I looked at the price tag. It read: $339.00. My heart sank. I sat on the shoe bench head in hand, debating the merits of forking out that kind of cash. On one hand they were gorgeous and they were environmentally friendly so it would be like doing my civic duty to buy them. On the other hand, I have long fought the battle of the credit card and am trying to pay down some debt so I can afford to move in the spring. I sat their, holding one boot in each hand, weighing the options while the staff looked on. In the end, I did the right thing and walked away. When I realized I was barefoot, I went back for the shoes I came in wearing, but somehow they seemed dirty and wrong now.
In the end, I made the right fiscal decision. I bolstered my will power, looked those boots in the face and said “you don’t own me!” actually I think I said “you had me at hello” but I left anyway. Do I feel better for it? A stronger woman with slightly less debt? Honestly? I'm debating about what I could sell in order to afford those boots and I'm not talking baseball cards if you know what I mean...
But wait! In the back of my mind a slow awakening his taking place. Four days ago my mom asked me what I wanted for my upcoming birthday. Four days ago there was nothing I wanted, but now….
So today's lesson is don't go into shoe stores unless its almost your birthday.
Cheers,
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