I am sorely perturbed at your repulsive appearance. I cannot completely blame you, as you were designed for comfort, and not for looks. Oh that you were as comfortable as your ugliness deems you should be! Alas, it seems that the $24 I paid for thee was an utter waste of cash. Now, I am forced to vest my feet in your disgustingly smelly depths every time I venture to work. My peers say it shall be my 6″ alligator heels that are the death of my feet, but nay! I am convinced it shall be ye.
The grippers on the bottom of you not only keep me from slipping and hitting my skullage on the pizza oven at work- they are extremely adept at picking up an stray pepperoni, cheese, and other perishable pizza toppings that have made their way onto the floor. The treads of you are so full of mashed pork and beef toppings that just the thought of it makes my stomach churn. Woe is me, but there is no way to unsully the soles of my work shoes!
Sadly, you were not there to appropriately support my perfectly-arched feet yesterday when I needed you most. Nine hours I was scheduled; while my feet screamed at me for mercy from your death hold after only five hours, I further tortured them by having to stay at work for another seven hours after I was scheduled. In return, my feet have decided to retaliate by refusing to fit into my gorgeous satin leopard-print booties. No amount of soakng or rubbing will deter them from dispersing their retribution.
I’ve considered replacing you, my Payless shoes, with a higher end brand of work boot, such as Doc Martens. Unfortuneately, I cannot justify spending $100 on a pair of shoes that will, in less than a month, reek of pizza grease and tomato sauce. And so, my homely companions, I pray that you will be kind to my feet just long enough for me to become insanely famous and rich from my blog.