The Not-So-Worn Footwear

“Hey sweetie, u look a lill umm.. what shall I say different”, said he taking a peep out of the newspaper.
I look different. Now that is an understatement, putting it way too mildly. Five hours and a grand later all I can look is different! Crazy! If ever there are creatures that are born who can beat bats at blindness then those are MEN.
But I just managed to be hope personified and cleared my throat.
“Umm..How do you mean different?”, I asked, flashing a wonderful smile.
The smile could have been done away with. Madhur did not even look up from the newspaper.
“Beautiful, what a lovely”, said Madhur, still engrossed in his newspaper.
It really is “our” newspaper but he uses it so much oftener right from when I want some help in the kitchen to when he wants to avoid answering my eternal “Do I look fat questions” that I have started associating the newspaper with him. But here was some hope. Had he not mentioned the words beautiful? Wow, some progress I thought and was even congratulating myself on a grand well spent.
“Swats, just check out these innings, what a beauty! I am so pissed I had to miss it”.
Oh so it really was the match after all and before those twenty two men even his wife “dressed to kill”, seemed to fade away.
“Umm.. Madhu, you were mentioning that I look different. So what were you saying”, asked a desperate me, making another vain attempt at getting him to steer the conversation away from his “lovely” cricket.
“Oh! That!”.
He took one quick look away from his all encompassing newspaper and there judgment was formed.
“Umm… Not bad, but u know Swats, you looked better before all that make up I suppose”.
The god has passed judgment. I let it sink in slowly. It beats me how every time I do something, the previous thing seems so much better. Like the other time when I went in and got that short hair cut, he felt the long hair falling on my bare neck seemed sexier and when I, with great difficulty grew it longer, fighting the heat all the way, he seemed to think the short hair looked smarter. Arrrghhh! And now after I put myself to endless facial scrubs, putting maids scrubbing floors to shame, straightening of those wild curls, wincing all the pain that comes from a hot wax, wishing I never had eye brows when they were being plucked, all he can say is “different”. I see. What’s more he prefers the un-scrubbed face.
But of course all was not yet over. Now I had in my possession those lovely pair of heels and when I wheel them around then he can’t help but remark how “tall” I am and how I reach his shoulders, well almost. These additional inches will go a long way in overcoming that foot long difference. I unpacked those shoes, they seemed more like glass crockery and the living room show case seemed befitting of their presence as compared to the old shoe case. I was so careful with them, even bordering on mild care and stepped into them.
“Ouch!”, I screamed, when I tried those first steps with them.
Man! Did they hurt? You bet. It felt like I was standing on long thin sticks and was trying impossible acrobats. Now all I needed was a long stick to balance in my hands and I can pass on for those wannabe tight rope artistes. But then being a persevering soul, I continued on, unmindful of all the pain and actually walked 10 meters, slipping every now and then of course.
“Madhur, do you want to have lunch outside and then head for the movie”, I asked from our bedroom.
“Oh! We had planned that right! I had almost forgotten about it”, said he in reply.
Forgot! He must be kidding. We had done one of those advance booking things after so much consultation with his n number of match schedules and now he pretends to forget.

2 hours later

Our man is bent over tying his shoe laces when I emerged from the bedroom all done with my cat walking practice. It did hurt a bit but never mind the pain when there was so much (height) to be gained. Hee hee!

“I am done” said he and stood up or maybe I should say stood tall, definitely taller than usual.

I stole one quick glance at his shoes.

“Oh! those” he answered following my eyes.

“I forgot to mention about these amazing shoes, Swats. Last week I was just getting back home on my way when I just saw them on display and just could not resist the temptation and bought them.”

I reeled. Did he just say he bought shoes on an “impulse”? Heloo! Unplanned shopping is a woman’s forte and these men have no business stepping into zones prohibited. And shoes which have those raised heels for men is a strict NO! NO!. And if the man in question happens to be breaking the scales of height, then such shoes should be considered no better than the plague which struck Gujarat a few years ago. Discard them is what I say.

As though reading my mind and waiting to refute the facts, he started singing praises of the shoes, how comfortable they were, how good they looked.

No ways I was going to relent and fall for all that crap. How can men’s shoes look good, they all looked the same and pretty bland if I may add.

Few months later, dusty boots and heels were heard in conversation.

“We have been lying unused for so long now” said the boots to the heels.
“Except those few minutes when she wore me the other day. Every morning she looks at me longingly, lets out a sigh and says “A deal is a deal!” and wears one of those flat backed ugly slippers”, replied the heels.
“What do you think he does? He still curses that day when he gave in to Missus’ wishes about discarding me in exchange for getting her off you, you hideous looking heels, and one cricket match at the stadium”.

And so they fought on till the night wore at the quiet house waiting for the Mister and the Missus to return and discard the beastly slippers and shoes they wore.

p.s:- This was sort of inspired by Gifs long ago post lying in the wild jungle just yonder