What I never thought I'd wear....

Moving to Washington has caused me to have to REALLY look at my wardrobe. It started in June 2007 the SECOND we drove into the state of Washington and my car hit 50,000 miles and it was 50 degrees outside and it was POURING. And I thought, uh-oh, what did I get myself into?? It was then that I realized that, oh, these million pairs of flip flops and strappy heels I wore in Arizona ALL YEAR were just not going to cut it given that it's, oh, 50 degrees out and RAINING. I thought for about 2.5 seconds that maybe that initial day in Washington was a fluke. NOPE, welcome to your life for NINE MONTHS OUT OF THE YEAR. Prepare to be freezing for 90% of your life in Washington. Oh, and all of those sweaters I chucked from my Iowa days? I NEED THOSE BACK. Hi, Arizona goodwill, remember me? I donated about 10 bags of sweaters and coats in about June of 2005, anyway you still have those sitting around? It's not like anyone in Arizona needed them, right?

I was introduced to rain gear, hiking shoes (this was a serious testament to my devotion to being a true Washington resident), north face, REI everything. And re-introduced to massive layering. It was a FAR FAR cry away from my cute clothes that I had in Arizona when I hung out with the Scottsdale crowd and could just run out of the house at any given moment by wearing what I had on and throwing on flip flops. I quickly retired many of my "cute" clothes for comfort and warmth and LAYERS... fleece included. I also rapidly realized that living in Washington does not equal looking cute. It equals being WARM so who really gives a crap what you look like at that point? And if you were ever to visit, you'd see LOTS of north face, LOTS of hiking gear, LOTS of rain clothes. I fit in now, even though I will say, I still don't look like a total Washington person. I mean, come ON, for my sanity, I still have to wear SOME heels and cute clothes...even if it means that some days I freeze.

Well.

On the clothes note.

LET ME JUST SAY. This insanity just hit a new level last month. High or low, I'm not really too sure. Tim found these shoes. THESE SHOES. I saw a picture and I swear to god, I looked at him like, please, give me some of whatever you are smoking so that I can envision those shoes to look like cute Jimmy Choo's instead of whatever craziness you just showed me. But, alas, he wasn't smoking anything and these shoes are most definitely NOT Jimmy Choo. THE CONVERSATION ABOUT THESE SHOES WOULD.NOT.END.

It reminded me of my first camping trip (ever) that I took up here in Washington a few years ago when I was FORCED, DRAGGED AND BEATEN (ok, maybe not beaten but definitely forced) to buy Merrill's. Hiking shoes. GASP. I wouldn't even try them on. I mean, come on. They are such an ugly Khaki dirt color, why do they do this? Can't they at least make the color cute even if they don't make the shoe cute? Buying these Merril's was EPIC and it took someone a tremendous amount of energy to get me to even AGREE to buy them, much less look at them. Not mentioning names, TIM.

But these new shoes. HOLY HELL, you have GOT to be kidding me. After hearing about them incessantly for a while and how they are the new rage and they are so great for athletes ("especially runners") and there are all these blogs about how much people love them and they are so good for your leg muscles and BLAH BLAH BLAH (did I even listen after I saw the pictures? Uhhhh....yes....), I was DRAGGED into REI to TRY THEM ON. I thought I was going so a certain someone could try them on and next thing you know THERE IS A BOX OF LADIES' SHOES NEXT TO ME. I tried on these shoes, people. For 5 seconds. And promptly declared them as weird as I thought they would be and that there was no way in hell I would be caught dead with these shoes. EVER EVER EVER. Partly because I knew I would never live it down and partly because, I mean, come on, LOOK at them.

NEXT THING YOU KNOW.

"Hey, guess what? I ordered those SHOES! And some for you too!" (And a word on the ordering: no store has them in stock because they are THAT popular. Really. I know, it shocks me too).

And, did I just hear "shoes" plural? As in more than one pair? Maybe I am mistaken. Please LET me be mistaken.

But NOPE. The unthinkable:

Vibram toe shoes, thanks to Tim. Or you can call them monkey feet, I don't really care. Let me just say:

I have TRIED to like them. I have. They weren't THAT bad once I actually had them on. I mean, after they were ordered at $100 a pop, I figured I might as well just give them a shot, especially after I realized that since I have them, I might as well try. And I did some of the research on "bare feet" running myself and found that there actually are quite a few benefits. So, after deciding this, one day I decided, "I'm going to go on a walk in my toe shoes. We'll just see about this and how awesome they are."

I have never been so glad for a walk to be over. OW OW OW.

I had MASSIVE blisters all over my feet. Granted, I wasn't wearing "toe socks" so that was part of the problem AND my "breaking in" period was an 8 mile walk, which in itself was probably dumb and set me up for failure. But after mile 6, all I could think of was "What is the fastest f-ing way home otherwise I am going to sit down and cry and then I'll be the crying girl on the side of the road in north face and fleece and monkey feet." It would have been a sad, sad story and I can just see all of my cute, stylish friends in Arizona shaking their heads upon seeing the picture and going, "Wow."

So, as of right now my verdict is this: a) I can't believe I have a pair of my own monkey feet (What has my style COME to in Washington??) and b) maybe, just maybe, I'll like exercising in them someday. I actually think they could be really awesome for hot yoga, or yoga of any kind really. And I do actually think there is a lot to say for the bare feet running/walking. If I can get past the feeling of walking on rocks (there's not much padding, ouch if you have wimpy, un-callused feet like me) and having blisters, maybe, just maybe, I'll add these to my Washington wardrobe. My, oh, my how this definition of wardrobe has changed.