But I want them. . .

Yesterday, I made the mistake of counting my shoes. I knew it was a bad idea from the start. I was inspired to do it because I almost never wear the same pair of shoes two days in a row (unless it's my black Converse Chuck Taylors--I swear to you, they make almost anything more stylish), and I still have a bunch of shoes that I never wear. Ugh. I mean, that alone should have been reason enough not to count, right? If I can't get around to wearing all my shoes, that's proof in itself that I have too many pairs. But I was a dumbass and I went ahead and counted anyway, because that's the kind of (dead) curious cat that I am. I suffered a minor guilt attack. I gave a friend a (damn cute) pair of printed sneakers that I don't wear much.

I was recounting the horror of taking inventory of my shoe wardrobe later that night with friends, and I was coerced into sharing the exact number of pairs I had. I made my pals promise not to judge me before I told, and to my surprise, they weren't that harsh. My friend D even said, "That's not too bad. I have 14 pairs, and I'm a guy." (That also proves that other people count, which makes me feel better, too.)

So, since I was nice and I gave away a pair, and since my friends eased my guilt, I can buy the pictured, pair, right? I mean, they're sooooo cute. . .