When will I ever learn?
The second Present Carlos becomes Past Carlos, which coincidentally is every second, Present Carlos ends up regretting Past Carlos’ choices.
Case in point; Past Carlos’ choice in shoes.
Turns out, choosing shoes based solely on looks works perfectly fine as long as you don’t have to use those shoes for more than casual walking.
When you have to do some actually walking, your feet will swell up and hurt in ways you hadn’t thought possible.
Case in point; I’m currently walking 10k per day.
My shoes had not been designed with this in mind.
But did past Carlos think about this?
Of course he didn’t, that idiot. That’s the kind of forward thinking he doesn’t do. Ass hole.
Which is why Present Carlos—that’s me, right here—has to suffer the consequences of his preferences for form over function.
My feet hurt so much. So much so that it goes from being just painful to funny, back to painful again. It hurts between the toes even thought I haven’t done anything to my toes.
So I gave in.
I couldn’t take it any more.
I found the closest shoe shop that specialises in running shoes and went in—fully expecting to come running out of the shop, in my old shoes.
But again, Past Carlos, as we’ve established, is a giant idiot because that didn’t happen.
I was instead greeted by a friendly and sympathetic sales man who listened to me ramble on about my feet for a while and then preceded to present me with some options. All the while asking question and narrowing down my selection to my best options.
Curiously, the first pair I stuck my feet into were such a horrible vibrant blue—like an angry smurf—that I had to ask why they stocked such eye-popping colours and if they didn’t have any beige or brown options.
Turns out, “no.”
Apparently people really like brightly coloured shoes for reasons I don’t understand—in fact, if you know, get in touch. I really want to know why.
But my feet felt relief they’ve never felt before.
Like the caress of a gentle lover sweeping you of your feet and whispering softly, “Everything is going to be okay now. I know what you like. I like it too.”
“We’re never wearing your old shoes again,” whispered my feet.
I tried a few other ones including the previous version of the angry smurf shoes, which were on sale and in a palatable red.
But none were as comfortable as the first pair.
The bright angry blue stared at me, taunting me with its sweet sweet relief, begging me to buy them.
“I hate you Past Carlos,” I sighed between my breaths as I entered my pin into the card reader to pay for the shoes I had just bought.