Monday, April 09, 2007

Where's Stanley Tucci When I Need Him?

I know Stacy London (Has anyone seen her new show? Keep your day job, sister.) would kick me for saying this, but I just can't make it through a work day in heels. Or any attractive shoe, for that matter. I spend most of my hours at the agency on my feet, and much of that time running up and down 5 flights of stairs. If I'm not wearing shoes with support and a sensible sole, I've got shin splints by noon. I'm happy to swap cheery feet for my new sitch, but I do miss looking not crazy.

I gaze longingly at the girls wearing wedges and pumps, their hair smooth and shiny, their makeup dewy and fresh; I'm straight-up Amy Version 14 (years old, that is). Black Chucks and a falling-out ponytail, my face dewy with sweat, tripping over my shoelaces. I'm hoping once I get the work stuff figured out I can break out my style, but for now it's last under my large piles of stickies. That and eating foods not from a vending machine.

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