I'm finally ready to step up and tell you all about stepping out last Friday. If any of you heard the rumor that I was in a cloud—not just on a cloud—it would be true.
You see, I went to the thrift shop to find boots to wear with my disco outfit for my meeting with Gloria Gaynor. I never wear boots, but these were my size, and despite the three inch high chunky heel, when I tugged those spandex boots on, they felt wonderful. I took them home, sprayed them with anti-fungal and walked around in them a while. No real pain. I was getting attached to my boots. Literally. My feet began to sweat and were stuck inside the boots. When I finally pried them off my tootsies, I knew right then and there I'd have to resort to my old high school trick of powdering my bare feet.
Ahhhh, that worked and felt so much better. I walked outside to get in my car, and with every step I took, I stomped out one powder cloud after another. The tops of my boots (across my foot) were white by the time I got in the car. I slid back out in my hooker-red outfit and clomped back into the house. I shook those boots upside down and sideways to get the baby powder out. I washed my feet and dried them. Eased my feet back in. Stepped lightly. No problem. Walked out on the concrete drive and pouff-pouff-pouff, those clouds were back. I ran back in and used a wet wash cloth to scrub those boots inside and out.
Tromped to the car. Relief. I felt self-assured when I got out at the Hilton downtown and strutted into the lobby. We sat a while. Then we four women headed to the ladies room up the hall and around the corner. Somehow all of that high stepping dislodged the clump of powder that must have been stuck in the toe section. Too late.
We were invited to the 17th floor and had to go right away.
I sat on the sofa next to Ms. Gloria Gaynor and felt the urge to tuck my feet. Then, I saw the tiny hole in my leggings! I'm sure she thought I was a poor old soul with those holey pants. She must have thought those boots were my winter shoes with salt stains on them. She was very gracious and didn't say a word.
On the way home, in the car, the other women kicked off their heels and sighed with relief. I was afraid I'd release a puff that couldn't be contained and we'd choke on that cloud... not to mention leaving my footprints on the car carpet, so I toughed it out.
Well, there you have it, another day in the life of Lucy. I mean, Linda.
Linda--I sometimes pull a "Lucy" as well.
Thank goodness you have "Ricky" at home--your hot-blooded hunk--to help you out of your occasional scrapes.
At least that pouff-pouff-pouff when you walked was coming out of your SHOES.
Linda, sound like your boots weren't made for walking (or wearing). At least you were polite keeping yours on your feet on the way home.I warned Cathi in the backseat that it might not be pretty, but my white go-go boots were going to be gone off my feet. She didn't say a word but she did turn the other direction! (adding to my story that I intended to shorten)
Haha! I've no doubt you were self-conscious about your powdery boots, but you're so delightful a lady that I am completely certain no one was looking at your feet. :)
I'm still laughing at Val's comment. I was thinking that worse things could emanate from your feet than powder, but her thought was infinitely truer.
Lucy...er, Linda, this is such a cute post! I'm sure you were beautiful, powdery boots and all!
On the bright side, the scent of baby powder makes us all feel extra nostalgic.
I said goodbye to my white go-go boots and my brown knee-high suedes decades ago! My hat is off to you for your authentication of attire! I could never put on another pair of heels! Thanks for sharing such a fun story!
Oh, gosh, Linda. I've heard of kicking up the dust but never the powder! ha!
That night will go down in the "footprints" of history.
Sounds like a great freelance story to me! Susan
Oh my! That made me laugh. I hope you had a great time in spite of your cloudy boots!
I would love to have seen that!
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