Wedding Shoes

It is acceptable to dedicate an entire post to shoes, right? I think so. Especially when those shoes happen to be beautiful Christian Louboutins.

A few months before the wedding my mom and dad surprised me with the best wedding gift ever- a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps to wear on my wedding day. The day after I received them I wrote a post about the gorgeous shoes and left everyone hanging as to what they looked like. I raved about the beautiful shoes on the blog and throughout the social media world, but I let very few people actually see them. Just like my dress, I wanted them to be a wedding day surprise. 

By the time our wedding day rolled around, many people had heard about the shoes, but only a handful had seen them. Needless to say, I was thrilled to show them off to anyone and everyone who asked about them during the wedding reception. 

I kid you not when I say that our guests were just as excited to see the infamous wedding shoes as they were to see the dress that I had also worked so hard to keep secret. I knew by the end of the night that my feet would be killing me from standing (and dancing, lots of dancing), but I was determined to keep them on my feet as long as possible. 

Unfortunately they did not stay on my feet the whole night. The dancing was just too much! They were, however, the perfect shoes for my wedding day. They gave my dress that extra little sparkle, and the red soles popped against the white dress. I can't thank my mom and dad enough for this beautiful surprise and for giving me the wedding of my dreams. 

I am now in the process of decorating an entire room in our house around these shoes. Thanks to Pinterest, I found the perfect way to display them in a case, and I am turning the beautiful pictures that our photographer took of them into canvas to hang on the walls. It's going to look amazing when I'm done! Because after all, these shoes are way too pretty to sit in the back of a closet somewhere!

I am a Klutz.

Hello my name is Morgan and I am a klutz.

I fall down more than any twenty-something should. Nine times out of ten, alcohol isn’t even a factor. I trip walking up stairs, walking down stairs, walking on gravel, walking on concrete, walking on grass, the list goes on and on. A majority of time my legs look like an eight-year-old little boy with scabs and bruises covering them.

I have one pair of shoes that I fall in pretty much every time I put the damn things on my feet. No, they aren’t sky-high stilettos. They actually have no heel at all. They are a pair of red fringe cowboy boots. Yes, Cowboy boots. I don’t know what it is about those damn shoes, but I have quite a few battle wounds to show off from them. Normal people would probably throw the freaking boots away after tumble number ten two in them, but not me. They are way too cute for all that mess!

The day before I left for NYC last month I fell (and I wasn’t even wearing the cowboy  boots!). I was walking into my office and my shoe apparently got caught in a crack on the sidewalk. Down I went. I looked really cute walking around the streets of New York with a scab covering the majority of my knee. Not to mention the fear that the scab would open and I would start bleeding all over the bright white wedding dresses I was trying on. I have a pretty little scar to show for it now.

And then it happened again last night. Chasing after the dog in the backyard, I fell into a hole. A hole that turned out to be about a foot deep. And apparently at the bottom of that hole was a rock. A big ass rock that cut the bottom/side of my foot in about three different places.  I didn’t even realize how bad I had cut my foot at first, since falling is a pretty common thing for me, so I hobbled my way into the house and into the bathroom to wash the mud and dirt off my foot. That is when I noticed the blood. There was a lot of it and it wouldn’t stop. I sent the fiancé in panic mode when I called him to tell him (through tears) that I had fallen and cut myself. He of course came immediately to my aid. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that boy?! Anyway, after cleaning up my wound, and examining the hole to make sure it wasn’t metal that cut open my foot, he bandaged me up and tucked me into bed. Have you ever cut the bottom of your foot? Well, it makes it a real pain in the ass to walk, I can tell you that much. Out of the sixty something pairs of shoes I have in my closet (did I really just admit that? Hello my name is Morgan and I am a shoe addict.) I only have TWO pair that don’t hit my wound. Damnit.

Oh, and I’ll be on a plane to Key West in only a matter of days. I always hurt myself at the worst times. Normal people would probably just leave those pretty little wedges at home at a time like this. Not me. Time to man up I suppose.

I’m going to take some paid medicine.

I’ll try not to fall before we talk again.