Hooker Heels

So I bought a pair of high heels for five dollars at Goodwill. How high, you ask? Like about six inches I would say. Maybe more. They’re pretty tall. I myself am only about 5’2 ½”, but they still make me decently tall. We haven’t actually reached the story yet, this is just the exposition.

So I bought these heels, right? They’re all stiletto-y and platform-y, and super tall, right? They’re also like fire engine red, so all in all, these are some VERY hookerish heels.

But you’re not a prostitute, you’re saying. Why do you need these heels? Why did you buy them?

To which I say: You don’t know me, internet stranger. You don’t know my life. I am not in fact a hooker, though, you’re right. I’m not a stripper either, so to be perfectly honest, I do not actually need these heels for any reason whatsoever. But they’re like actually some decently brand name, fancy heels, and here they were at Goodwill only lightly used, in my size, and five dollars. So I bought them. And since I bought them they have basically been in my closet at home.

Now, I go to college. Mind you, we’re still in the exposition. I go to college, and I live in dorms, and not in my house where my family lives. But my house is close enough that I go home some weekends, and for doctor’s appointments and stuff. So my friend who was with me when I bought the heels had been asking about their whereabouts, and I told her, they’re in my closet at home because where the heck am I gonna wear them anyway, what’s the point of bringing them to college where they’re just going to take up some of my already very limited space? Her response was effectively: Dude, wear them wherever the heck you want, they’re badass heels, go get them right now and learn to walk in them and then just wear them everywhere you go until your ankle tendons get all screwed up. So, long story short, I took her advice and picked them up last Tuesday when I was back at home for an appointment with my OB/GYN. And now they’re in my dorm.

But see how long it took me to explain all that? Do you see? So that’s effectively twice as long as it would take me to explain these heels to, say, my roommates. And seeing as we’re hardly in the room all together except for when we’re all asleep, I’d probably have to tell each of them this separately, which would take, by my calculations, twice as long. So we’re back to where we started, and I just don’t have time to explain my hooker heels, and I don’t have time for their mildly judgey looks.

Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t judge you once you explained, you’re saying.

Nope. Think again. I, good sir or madam, am the WEIRD roommate.

Exhibit A: There’s a cupboard above my bed that goes reeeeaaally far back, and the other day I wanted to see if I could fit in it. And so I climbed up there. And I fit quite nicely.

Exhibit B: I have a slight obsession with tea. I have a tea infuser with a handy little hook at the end so that it just hooks to the side of your mug and doesn’t fall in. I thought I’d see if it would work as an earring. It does.

This is very quickly just turning into a resume of this week’s accomplishments.

Anyway, Exhibit C: I watch vlogbrothers videos. Often, in those videos, either John or Hank gets very passionate, and when your roommates can’t hear what’s going on and they have no previous knowledge of John and Hank Green, apparently it just looks to them like you’re just watching some random guy rant, which is apparently not normal. I have tried to explain John and Hank Green to my roommates, but they are not on youtube nearly as much as I am, so none of my attempts have been especially successful. I have lately taken to hiding my love of vlogbrothers, and Emma Approved, and jacksfilms, etc. from my roommates because I don’t want to spend ten minutes explaining youtube, and youtube stars, and youtube web show series things, just to have them still look at me like, “That’s nice, hunny. You have fun on your little internet. I’m off to do yoga and then have sex with strangers / I’m off to my Christian fellowship meeting where I will pray for the sanity of the man I just saw on your computer screen.” (That man was Hank Green, by the way.)

Now it sounds like I’m being judgey, right?

Yeah. So it goes.

Moral of the story, I am going to continue to hide my hooker heels under my desk every time one of my roommates walks in while I’m practicing walking in those monsters, because while I know it will really only take two minutes to explain why I have them, I really just do not need my roommates to think I’m any weirder than they already think I am.

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