I love my Crocs. Yes, they’re ugly. Yes, they look stupid. But man, they’re comfortable. And easy. And they don’t stink. I remember when they started to become trendy, and I would stare at people wearing bright red, clown looking Crocs with a furrowed brow. I thought, “I don’t care how comfortable those things are, I’m never going to wear them.” And here I am today, a Croc lover. Eating my words.
In fact, they are relatively short and fat. My mom calls them my Fred Flintstone feet. My personal trainer shakes her head and wonders how I don’t topple over. I wear a nine wide. Technically I could fit in an eight and a half extra wide width, but it’s hard to find cute shoes in that size. Nine wide will do, thank you.
Shoes are scattered all around the house. I try to contain them in closets and baskets in the mud room and the back door. But they tend to land wherever my weary feet decide to shed them. This means I’m often found searching frantically all over the house for whatever shoes I’m wanting to wear at the time.
I have a mish-mash of all sorts of casual shoes. Lots of flip flops, toeless sandals, a couple pairs of running shoes, a few pairs of Crocs, hiking boots I never wear, one pair of short black heels, several leather slip-ons in black and brown, and snow boots...
Crocs of course.