Since it's been ingrained to create new-you resolutions when a new year dawns, I *try* to create and stick to New Year's resolutions.
Sometimes, however, I find myself sitting, around Dec. 30, thinking, concentrating, almost willing these great new-you ideas into my otherwise content (I think) mind.
A few weeks ago, I packed two verrry cute high-heeledish boots to my work trip to the city. Super cute. Both pairs bought during one of those "I NEED those beautiful boots - the last ones left, the ones on super-sale" moments. Neither pair fit me. "I'll break that leather in and these will be the best boots anyone's ever owned," I told myself while happily carting them to the register to pay and all the way home (I should have been thanking God then they were in a bag and not on my feet).
On said trip to Chicago, I wear a pair of said adorable, ill-fitting boots. After a several-block commute, running a few errands on foot and then later walking a few miles for drinks with my friend, my feet begin the gradual numbness/hurt/hurt/deep hurt/numbness that comes with wearing ill-fitting shoes. Often.
And I love comfortable shoes! But, alas, I'm a sucker for a bargain and somehow feel special and destined to own the shoes when they're the only, lovely, last-to-be-snatched pair there.
So. I told myself, without prior thought about resolutions this year, that I'd resolve to buy shoes that fit me. Only. Regardless of the price. Or how wonderful they are. Or whether they're the last pair around. I know that sounds silly, but really, I'd say it's not that uncommon for the average woman to suffer some in the shoe department. Oh! To suffer some when it comes to foot comfort, then.
And then I realized, well, silly, this doesn't have to be a process, this resolution-making. It's just picking up on opportunities to make a positive change for yourself. It's not sitting and drumming up a list of things, once a year, because it's 'time.' That feels a lot better. And my feet will, too.
