I have a confession to make. I have sinned. I have broken my own promise not to do it again. But I had to…my feet were killing me! I have caved in and worn the dreaded Crocs again. Last summer I spent the whole four months in these:
I had promised myself I wouldn’t wear them again if not to go to the beach and then only because they are so easy to clean and to protect my feet from the sharp rocks on our beaches. I hadn’t even taken them out of their box. Munchkin lives in hers and we just bought a new pair and a new Jibbitz because, let’s face it, sandals are a total pain to clean twice a day and none are as comfortable and practical as Crocs. I am not five, though, and I don’t look so sweet in mine. It doesn’t help that mine are a bright fuchsia either.
So there you have it…I am breaking every fashion rule and I’m sure that if Stacy and Clinton had to see me right now they would crown me Frumpiest Mum of The Decade. And you know what? Right now I don’t really care…at least my feet are happy.