I got the worst possible news ever today. I mean, for someone who hates heels, anyway.
I just so happened to tell a story, which I also just so happened to be in heels for. Alright, alright fine. I’ll tell the story too. So on Sunday, it was one of Doug’s best friends farewells. He is going to Michigan. Anyway, I went to it, and me and a couple other girls were talking about how awkward it would be to hug Mason (the guy leaving, duh.) So, I surely wasn’t planning on it, especially since he basically hated me up until very recently. Anyway, I’m in heels right? And this girl I was talking with was all, “Go on, I already hugged him. It’s your turn!” She then proceeded to shove me, which, me being the awesome klutz I am (and also in heels, please keep that in mind), I went flying. Right in to Mason’s arms. And then he was holding me for a good 10 seconds, everyone laughing at us. And of course, him laughing at me too. Ok, fine, so I was chuckling a little as well. But the point is, heels are death traps. Oh, I forgot to mention that, because of said heels, I was just tall enough that Mason’s chin collided perfectly with my head. I then got a headache for the rest of the day. Yeah, it was fabulous…
So because of that story, which I wrote my fantastic Elder about, I got this response from Doug today: “Hey as you mentioned heels those are important to wear they’ve grown on me while I’ve been here.”
Excuse me? For someone who hates heels, that boy is asking a lot from me. Because essentially, he just implied he wants me to wear heels, basically all the time when he gets home. Does he realize how HUGE of a thing that is for me? I mean, honestly, I rarely wear them on Sunday’s to church or to any nice functions I attend. And now he’s hoping I’ll turn all Ukrainian on him when he gets home? I purposely tried to make sure I didn’t become all high fashiony when I was in Kiev just so he would be able to recognize me when he got home, and would actually still like the look of me. I mean, after all, he wears pajamas in public. He can’t be wanting me to look all up to do with him if he looks like that. Seriously, now he wants me to be Ukrainian. Gee, that would’ve been nice to know 4 months ago when I was still in the country…
However…
Hello? Does he remember how crappy my ankles are? Remember the time a couple posts back about how I basically DIED in Ukraine by messing up my ligaments, again. Yeah, that was with wearing running shoes. Just think of what would happen if I wore heels. Or what my back problems, or the knee problems that are sure to ensue? Or hey, what about the fact he’s only four inches taller than me? Yeah. Officially decided. My dear Douglas is crazy.
Oh well. I’ll humor him. I’ll try it out while he’s gone, attempt to get used to them just to appease his irrational desires. Maybe I’ll even wear them the day he comes home ;)
I just so happened to tell a story, which I also just so happened to be in heels for. Alright, alright fine. I’ll tell the story too. So on Sunday, it was one of Doug’s best friends farewells. He is going to Michigan. Anyway, I went to it, and me and a couple other girls were talking about how awkward it would be to hug Mason (the guy leaving, duh.) So, I surely wasn’t planning on it, especially since he basically hated me up until very recently. Anyway, I’m in heels right? And this girl I was talking with was all, “Go on, I already hugged him. It’s your turn!” She then proceeded to shove me, which, me being the awesome klutz I am (and also in heels, please keep that in mind), I went flying. Right in to Mason’s arms. And then he was holding me for a good 10 seconds, everyone laughing at us. And of course, him laughing at me too. Ok, fine, so I was chuckling a little as well. But the point is, heels are death traps. Oh, I forgot to mention that, because of said heels, I was just tall enough that Mason’s chin collided perfectly with my head. I then got a headache for the rest of the day. Yeah, it was fabulous…
So because of that story, which I wrote my fantastic Elder about, I got this response from Doug today: “Hey as you mentioned heels those are important to wear they’ve grown on me while I’ve been here.”
Excuse me? For someone who hates heels, that boy is asking a lot from me. Because essentially, he just implied he wants me to wear heels, basically all the time when he gets home. Does he realize how HUGE of a thing that is for me? I mean, honestly, I rarely wear them on Sunday’s to church or to any nice functions I attend. And now he’s hoping I’ll turn all Ukrainian on him when he gets home? I purposely tried to make sure I didn’t become all high fashiony when I was in Kiev just so he would be able to recognize me when he got home, and would actually still like the look of me. I mean, after all, he wears pajamas in public. He can’t be wanting me to look all up to do with him if he looks like that. Seriously, now he wants me to be Ukrainian. Gee, that would’ve been nice to know 4 months ago when I was still in the country…
However…
Hello? Does he remember how crappy my ankles are? Remember the time a couple posts back about how I basically DIED in Ukraine by messing up my ligaments, again. Yeah, that was with wearing running shoes. Just think of what would happen if I wore heels. Or what my back problems, or the knee problems that are sure to ensue? Or hey, what about the fact he’s only four inches taller than me? Yeah. Officially decided. My dear Douglas is crazy.
Oh well. I’ll humor him. I’ll try it out while he’s gone, attempt to get used to them just to appease his irrational desires. Maybe I’ll even wear them the day he comes home ;)
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