As soon as the bathroom visits dwindled to every thirty minutes, I headed to a trendy little shop that I’d previously ventured into with my teenage daughter. We were still in Belgium, and I was hoping to find something that would turn hubby’s head and make him forget I’d been green for three days.
Still light-headed from lack of food, I bought a snappy little black and silver number with one blue sleeve. The salesclerk actually told me it was too tight, but I said I was buying it anyway. He apologized for his poor English. Then came the fun part; I had to buy matching shoes. I meandered from store to store, knowing I would fall in love when I saw the right pair. Suddenly they appeared before me, suspended inside a glass case. I felt my forehead to make sure my fever wasn’t high enough to cause hallucinations, for I had never before seen such a glorious pair of black knee-high boots with silver-studded platform heels.
I completed the look with black lace tights, which actually turned out to be ABCs, and made my grand entrance. Hubby could barely get the words out. “Wow! What brought this on? You look great!”
For effect, I gave a wobbly little pirouette. It was then that he noticed the studs. “Wait? What’s that all over your boots?”
“I know! Aren’t they fabulous?”
“Well, they’re going to take some getting used to. They actually kind of scare me.”
I plopped down on the bed, “Yeah, they kind of scare me too. They’re really, really high. I’m going to have to hold onto you for dear life when we go out.”
We had a wonderful evening, just hubby, our two little kids, and me in my tight dress and platform boots. By the time we got back to the hotel, my left knee was swollen and my feet were cursing me.