Soooo. Yeah. The last two weeks have been torture. Let me be more succinct. Torture on my feet. My predilection for high heeled shoes comes at a price. Sooner or later my feet wage a civil war against me. Right now my toes are all crunched and curled up as if I went through ancient Chinese foot binding. The balls of my feet are on fire and each step I suppress the "ooch ouch" my mouth wishes to utter. I abuse my feet all in the name of fashion. It is against Oracle Rules (and there are a plenty) to wear matronly, ugly, sensible shoes. I just can't do it. My shoes are an outlet for me. My feet are the only part of my body that hasn't betrayed me by getting bigger. They have been a 7.5-8 since high school. And I love them for their loyalty. I REWARD them for their fidelity. Outside of jewelry, I spend quite a bit of scratch on shoes. I love them! So in honor of my feet, and perhaps a blatant bribe to get them to stop the revolt, I dedicate this blog to the torture contraptions which elegantly adorn me. Here is to you Michael Kors, Calvin Klein, Guess, Max Studio, Saks 5th Avenue, and Beverly of Hollywood! Thank you for making each painful step a fashion forward one. I salute you!