Hi Friends, I’m on vacation this week but my friend, Allison Arnone of the AA blog, was kind enough to guest post for me. We collaborated together back in October with this post about Tinder and she’s so funny that I keep coming back for more. Get ready for some laughs:
To quote my coworker/friend Meghan, “I’m a big bootie fan.” Even though it came out sounding like she was talking about a Kim K-style derriere, she actually meant the shoe version of “bootie.” Ya know, these guys:
And ya know what? I’m a big bootie fan, too. So when I took off of work on Friday (keepin’ that week-long birthday celebration going) to go shopping with my mom, I couldn’t help but notice a cute pair in…well, I can’t say the name of the store.
I’m too embarrassed because of what transpired.
Listen, guys. I’m a moderately smart person. I have common sense and street smarts and even some minimal book smarts. But every once in a while, I do something stupid — so embarrassingly stupid — and it makes me question my entire existence. Friday afternoon was one of those days. Sigh, here goes.
I spotted a pair of cognac-colored suede booties in [Store Name Redacted] and immediately checked for my size. Lo and behold, the first ones I picked up were a size 7; exactly what I was looking for. It was shoe fate. I decided to throw my foot into the right shoe to see how it fit and felt and I turned to my mother, as I often do, for guidance.
“What do we think?”
“Eh, I don’t like that big buckle on the side.”
I looked down. The buckle/zipper WAS kinda large, and did I REALLY need another pair of booties? Probably not. I crouched down to take them off, and the zipper on that big buckle my mother just insulted…was stuck.
I sat down on the floor to get better traction and tried my hardest to pull the zipper down. It didn’t budge. Oh my God. I’m shoe-trapped.
I enlisted the help of my mom; standing in the store like complete bozos: me, balancing on one leg while she held onto my ankle; attempting to unzip this godforsaken shoe. She couldn’t get it either.
A teenage sales associate walked by at that moment and saw our awkward struggle and asked if we needed help. Who, us? Nope, nothing to see here. Just a 33-year-old woman trapped in one of your shoes with her mom trying to pry them off. Keep it moving.
Kidding: I actually told him what happened. He looked…confused. Unsure of how to handle the situation. He called for reinforcements.
Another young gentleman quickly showed up and I once again explained my predicament. I’m now getting hot. I feel a slight panic attack coming on. This stupid shoe is making the walls close in around me. This nice young fella does his very best to pull, tug and tear at this zipper, to no avail.
I’m now realizing I haven’t shaved my legs in a day or two and he’s all up close and personal to my unfortunate ankle stubble situation, which is making me feel worse. I hate this; I hate all of it. I look up and my mother is laughing; about to take pictures of me in my innocent and vulnerable state. DON’T YOU DARE, WOMAN.
Next thing I know, a manager-type dude (WHY DO ONLY GUYS WORK HERE?!) comes over with a pair of scissors: they’re going to need to cut me out of this bootie like the Jaws of Life. Young sales associate takes the scissors to the shoe and I immediately feel the metal blade touch my skin.
“Uh, let me do that,” I tell him, “just in case you cut me; I don’t want to have to sue the store after all this.”
I’m making jokes to try and lighten the mood and distract everyone from the fact that I am in a clothing store and stuck in their merchandise. Mortified.
I attempt to cut through suede. Have you ever done this? It’s FRIGGIN IMPOSSIBLE. I made a slight tear barely an inch deep, but it’s not enough to get me out. I’m REALLY starting to panic now. Someone says something about a box cutter; I think I blacked out.
That’s when it happens. Someone suggests me trying to cut through the OTHER side of the boot; the side opposite of the bulky-ass buckle, so I flip my ankle around.
And there was… (oh God) (brace yourself) : A REGULAR ZIPPER. The zipper I used to get this $%^!& boot on in the first place.
I was never stuck.
I was attempting to unzip a fake buckle.
The REAL zipper was — and always was — on the OTHER side.
I had my mom and THREE separate men trying to help me get a shoe off, when all I had to do was look on the left and pull down the normal, functioning zipper.
I lost a part of myself in that store that day, including my dignity. But I’ll tell you this: my mom and I laughed for the entire rest of the day about it, and laughed AGAIN that night when we recanted the story for my father. It’s too good not to share.
And the store was awesome about it; despite the fact that I cut up and ruined a perfect good bootie.
Speaking of, THIS is the actual shoe that caused the commotion:
Cute, right? Wrong. Dangerous, and stupid.
So I obviously feel like a total bonehead but had to share my story with you guys. Got any embarrassing stories for me? Let’s hear em!