Guest Post by "Diptea-esque-ish"

Today, I have a very very dear friend Deepti, "Guest Blogging" for me today. Why? Just 'coz I feel like introducing her to ya'll [Texas style]! She is one of the first friends I made through this wonderful medium of blogging. She is a total sweetheart. I love her candid style of writing. It is witty, funny, and entertaining. 

So here she is! Ladies and gentleman, pick up a glass of wine, sit back and hear her talk about shoes. What better topic for any two girls to bond over, Right? Even if its the wrong shoes ;)

Wrong Shoes

Tommy Hilfiger Espadrilles

I have an amazing talent of wearing the wrong shoes. You know what I am talking about. I wear flip-flops when walking through a meadow of  tall grass. I wear five inch heels when walking around in New York for eight straight hours. And I wear ballet flats that give me blisters even after I have worn it a hundred times, to a car show. By the end of each trip my feet are so swollen that its impossible to get the shoes off my feet without breaking my ankles. I would rather break my ankles than cut open my shoes, by the way. I don’t think there is anything called as a wrong shoe. You see, the shoes are always right. I personally feel that the situations were wrong. Never the shoe.

Matiko Diedre pumps

Speaking of shoes, I love them. They were the only things that ever got me compliments when I was growing up. Not my huge two front teeth and my freckled nose. Their charm does not supersede the sexiness of my choice of shoes. They were never brand names or very expensive, because I never had to sell my home and furniture (passing them off as vintage of course! what is that I hear? ka-ching!) to buy them. My shoes are a natural extension of me (we are talking biology here people!). The funny part is, the shoes that I get as gifts or (in recent cases) as giveaways are what I would have definitely bought on my shoe shopping expeditions (please feel free to imagine me in an Indiana Jones hat). I remember this one particular incident where I was sitting on a commode, peeing away to glory when a women from the next stall yelled over the sound of the flush that she loved my shoes. This happened at a rest stop somewhere between Boston and Connecticut. It’s my most favorite compliment by a faceless person till date.

Vintage woven flats from Dear Golden Vintage

When we were newly married my husband did not understand my obsession with shoes. Nor does he understand my obsession with collecting jewelery that I do not wear. But I fluttered my eye lashes (I applied a barrel load of mascara for the desired effect of the flirtatious girl-next-door) and showed off my two huge front teeth and freckled nose for added oomph factor and he succumbed to my voodoo (I had the song ‘I put a spell on you’ by Nina Simone playing in the background). From that moment on, this is one purchase that he does not question anymore. Why do I even bother to lie? He is just a sweet man who loves me to bits and gets me whatever I want. Bwaaahaahaaa.

Studded platforms from Target

All in all my love for shoes and everything feet-y is evident from all the letters that I put together to make word which made sentences which created paragraphs and this post. Do you have a story about your obsession that you want to share? Wine and chocolates? Growing vegetables? Obsessive compulsive cleaning? Diamonds? Shredded jeans? John Abraham? Adam Samberg? Do tell. I am all ears.

You can check out Deepti's wonderful blog here!