Okay, I bought some exercise shoes. Here’s the problem: None of my friends will see them since no one in my gym is my friend–except The Hunk, of course. Why would I buy the coolest workout shoes and not get to wear them in front of my shoe-adoring friends? So, congrats, you are my friend for the duration of this reading.
Here are the kicks.
Here’s another angle.
Prettiness. Love the colors.
Here’s the full side view.
I love the details.
There’s something romantic about these shoes.
I like the traction, here.
And here’s the solution to my background problem to a kind of sweet picture.
Now, these shoes don’t just look good, they are also perfect for my feet. Seriously. They are a perfect fit, don’t move around on my feet, have adequate cushioning, weigh nothing, and–most importantly–is not too tight anywhere on my feet–not the heels, toes, and not the arch.
I’ve worked out with them two or three times and had no problems. No sharp pains in that random place in the toe, no weird rubbing on the back of my heal, and no sock stealing. Hate that, don’t you?–when your socks are eaten by the shoes you wear! Anyway, these shoes are perfect and I wanted you to see them.
Thanks for being my friend, if even for a moment.
Your dearest friend,