By Meghan Dryzga
Hi. My name's Meghan and I have an affinity for comfort. I don't find any glory in being fashionably in pain.
But you know who comfort looks good on? Not me. Like, five-foot-ten, long, lean, trend-ily waify, glossy skinned, moisturizer mandatory, makeup optional... not me.
I'm five foot nuthin'. A hundred and sumthin'. Wait, that's not the saying. (Yah, the saying goes "five foot nuthin', a hundred and nuthin'." No typo there. "Sumthin'" was every bit of intentional.) So when you slide even the finest yogawear onto this petite stature, there's enough puddling at the ankle to wash me clear out cuteville.
And my dramatic conga with comfort doesn't end there. Take the short stroll from my hip to my heel and there's a fair chance you'll find that I may not be wearing shoes. Where's this girl from? Good God. Is she employed? Alright, alright, alright. I moved to Arkansas two years ago, but I swear that has nothing to do with it. The rumored Arkansan barefoot inclination is all rumor, not reality. And yes, Good God, I'm employed. I've worked in the advertising industry for nearly 10 years now. But sometimes, between meetings, you can find me milling around sans shoes. But it's not my fault.
Thing is, finding the utopian collaboration of comfort and cute/professional appearance in a shoe has been near impossible for me. Finding a set of heels that don't turn on my pinky toe by noon, and attempt to turn a 5-piggy picnic into four pigs and a strip of bacon has been discouraging.
And the flats. The flats?! Hey - "E" for effort on the flatty selection, Dillard's. Not that I don't love the loafers; always grateful for the opportunity to revisit my days as a tomboy. OH, but you have Mary Janes. Forgive me. Is it me, or did I just walk onto the set of a Britney music video. Those'll go great with my school girl uniform; you know how I like to wear it to client presentations. Do you have coordinating pigtail accessories? As much as I want to accent my less-than-lankiness with a pair of shoes that make passersby question if I've given up altogether, eh, I don't.
So what IS she looking for? Is she just passionate or wildly picky. I'm just - ugh - both. If I just had a sole, a swatch and a thread handy, I'd be able to show you what I'm... I'd be able to... I'm sorry. Do you hear that? Are those angels singing? Trumpets? Doves all aflutter for Eidia in all her Lushness. Well, sweet Georgia peach, I'll be smitten as a school girl with a box full of Christmas puppies. Nobody get alarmed, but I am nose to nose with one dangerously adorable pair of Audrey-style flats that don't put my femininity in peril. That emphasize my appreciation for "professional yet darling" but do not ignore my deep desire for heel-less-ness and my aversion to ankle pain. Oh sweet Blueberry Pie (that's what I named them), you understand me better than my husband when I explain to him (again) that there IS no dirty-dish fairy. Scoot over Santa; Eidia's moving into the workshop, and she's got a luscious line of comfortably cute toys for all the girls that made the "good" list.
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