Okay, ladies, sandal time has officially arrived.
The time has arrived to free our feet from shoes and don summer sandals. Right?
That makes about as much sense as freeing my body from a nice long muumuu and telling it to get ready for a bright hot pink Spandex bikini. Girlfriend, at my size and age, Spandex is not my friend. Neither are sandals. At least not in the shape my feet are in after a whole winter of neglect.
What to do? This is the question.
First, get all those creams and potions out of the bathroom cabinet and use them for a whole week. Faithfully.
At the end of the week, when you can walk across the hardwood without taking off the first layer of varnish, then you’ll be ready for the official sandal oath. It will be administered at on the first day of June in the privacy of your own bedroom. Just watch the clock and when the alarm goes off raise your big toes six inches off the floor and repeat the oath.
If you are blonde, please be reassured you do not have to memorize the oath. It is perfectly okay to read the words and you can put your toes down as soon as the oath is finished.
Now repeat the following:
I will promise to always wear sandals that fit. My toes will not hang over and touch the ground. Nor will my heels spill over the back. The sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps. A note to Great Aunt Gert: Honey, you need to buy a size eight in sandals. I know you got married in a size five and swore you’d never wear anything bigger, but the time has come to be realistic.
I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact and chip-free. I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe since it is the most visible.
I will sand down any mounds of skin on my heels before they turn hard and yellow. And especially before they have grooves in them big enough to hide an army tank inside.
I will not leave hairs on my big toe. Not even if it does hurt to pull them out with the tweezers.
I won’t wear pantyhose with sandals, not even if my misinformed girlfriend or sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if I tuck it in.
If a strap breaks, I promise I will not duct-tape, pin, super glue or tuck it back into place with the hopes that it will stay put. I will take my shoe to the repair shop or else toss it in the dumpster at the back of the lot. Note to Great Aunt Gert: It’s all right to throw away a pair of shoes.
I will not live in corn denial. Corns do not imply advanced aging. I will buy those little round patches to get rid of the pesky critters if the need arises.
I will resist the urge to buy those cute little jelly shoes at the Payless store for the low, low price of only $3.99. This is for the safety of myself as well as others who might be in close proximity to me. No one can walk properly when standing in a pool of sweat and I would hate to take someone down with me as I fall and break my ankle.
I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like
I will be brutally honest with my girlfriends when they ask me if their feet are too ugly to wear sandals.
After reciting the pledge, run, don’t walk, to the nearest place for a foot make-over. Then chase on down to the shoe store for something to put on your young looking feet. Yes, Great Aunt Gert, I will pick you up at and we will go shopping for some size eight white sandals.