Skip to content

What I get for trying to be a cute European…blisters on my toes

September 25, 2009

When a midwestern girl meets Europe there are times where there are clashes. And fashion is that biggest clash. Now, I love fashion. Wish I had the money to have all the latest fashion, but I don’t.

Anyway, when you come to Europe as a Midwesterner the first thing you notice is how well everyone is dressed. Especially the women. Excluding the teenagers, who usually come around, everyone has their “at home” clothes and their “out” clothes. Heels, dresses, skirts, nice pants, blouses, jackets, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, etc. Everyone has a great purse, great sunglasses, the latest strollers….they even look good in their jogging outfits.

So, as I had said in an earlier post, Sofia and I finally found playgroups and have been going all week. The biggest “problem” is that they are downtown. All of them. And what is downtown? People with fashion. Even moms have fashion here. And I am 12 weeks pregnant in between looking fat and pregnant with snot on my pant legs, milk on my sleeve and sand in my tennis shoes. I don’t know how other women do it. Maybe it helps if you live on the rich side of town. Who knows. But for some reason the grand idea of dressing up and looking nice came to me the other day and I set about getting myself in order.

Blow-dried the hair (that’s as far as I go), slapped some eye make-up on, get on the skinny jeans that still fit along with a cute pregnancy top and slipped into heels. Did I mention that I had to walk 25 blocks that day from the bus stop to get to the playgroup? Yeah. I forgot that part that morning, too.

So, by the time I got half way through those 25 blocks, my toes were raw. I could feel the goo dripping down my arches as the blisters popped, the muscles and tendons around my ankles started straining from me trying to walk differently to avoid more blisters and this strain soon became a burning that travelled up my calves and is still present two days later.

I cursed myself with every step. I cursed myself every time Sofia got up during playgroup, making me put my shoes back on tightly in order to run after her, I cursed myself as I saw other women wearing sandels and tennis shoes (American women, funny). Then came the 25 blocks back to the bus stop. And the two from the bus to my apartment.

I’ve been in tennis shoes since Wednesday. My toes look like they did when I studied dance: blisters on all of them, skin torn off the tops of them, my heels are red, bloody and raw. Going to the gym tomorrow should be fun.

So I ask: Why do I try to be European when I’m just a down, home Wisconsin girl?

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s