It's On Me

"Your mother wears combat boots, and she dresses you funny, too!"  Kids used to taunt each other like this back in the day.  (I have no idea what they say now.)  My mother did not wear combat boots, but I should probably not be seen in public.  On a recent trip to town, I had to buy a new pair of shoes.  Aaargh.  I cruised the shoe aisle, looking for the same shoe style I've worn for years so I didn't have to go through the trauma of making decisions and trying on anything different.  The store no longer carries that shoe.  Fine, just fine.  Barn shoes will never make me a fashionista.  I need them to be sturdy and comfortable, period.  I finally found a pair that would do, brown slip-ons.  They are not pretty.  It was cold the day of purchase and I was wearing wintertime double socks and so didn't notice that they are slightly too large.  The last time I went to town, I checked the shoe department for a size smaller.  They've stopped carrying that style.  Of course.  The nice man suggested I try looking on line.  I did.  That's where I found out that the shoes I am wearing are men's shoes, misplaced in the women's section and misplaced on me.  It's the next best thing to wearing combat boots.  My poor children.