love hate relationship with shoes

Last night was Amanda's Bachelorette. We had a grande time at Lobby and then Revolution. I felt so special getting in VIP to new places in Boston. It's usually not my thing--I prefer a laid back night. But this wasn't any given night; it was my future sister in law's bachelorette. I won't get into the details in the interest of privacy (I realize not everyone all life's details published).

Anyway, such occasions call for more adventurous outings, and it was an adventure. They also call for more adventuresome outfits, which brings me to the actual topic of this blog: my love hate relationship with my beloved leopard print shoes.

I mean, look at these things:
They're gorgeous! And, for the first 7 hours, they feel perfectly fine. I was perfectly capable of walking down Broad St to Lobby (and having a middle aged husbands get whacked on the arm by his wife for looking at me...yes, that happened. It was pretty funny, actually).
I was perfectly capable of dancing with the wall at Revolution when, among the other old school hip hop/ RB tunes mashed up with rock and 80s pop music, Cam'ron's "Too Close" came on.

I think I did feel a little bulk coming through on that wall, come to think of it...

I was even okay with modeling my leopard prints and fishnets outside for my fellow Bachelorette Party attendees (and anyone else who happened to be standing by...)

But by 1 AM I was done. I kept taking them off and sitting on the window ledge. I couldn't wait to get home and de-nightclubify myself. Look at the remnants:

It took me 7 seconds to get all that off and an hour to get it all on.

Now, this oversized long sleeve tee, pony tail and glasses, this feels much much better.

I'm off to go massage my poor, aching feet some more.