The Conflict

They sat there on the display shelf. Tall, proud, and yet, unassuming.

They did not need to demand my attention.

They knew I was hooked.

I made my way over to them,

Four inches of red leather beauty.

They had merely whispered, and I was heeding the call.

I thought of the balance in the bank.

I thought of my savings goals.

I thought of that simple hundred dollars.

And how my account wouldn’t miss it…much.

I crept over…slowly, deliberately, not wanting to be taken in.

Logic said, “Wherever shall I wear something so extravagant?”

Reason said, “I’ve never spent such money on such things!”

I pretended to have a decision to make as I slipped into the dark red leather.

Such bliss!

Such comfort!

And – as I glanced down into the mirror – such style!

Immediately I knew the shoes had won. I felt amazing.

Tall, sexy, invincible! I walked throughout the showroom,

Still, as if there were any question…

And I told the salesman to wrap them up.

Giddy with the purchase – I hurried them home

And immediately hid them in my closet,

Lest the ghosts of my bankrupt past see my new found fortune.

But there they sat, calling me, calling me. “Come and wear us!”

Twice that week I found reason to ease them out of hiding.

And once again, I stood tall, proud, and beautiful

As I greeted the world from four more inches of height.

They were admired, down there on my feet, and I along with them!

It’s true! These were transformative!

And I did deserve them!

As I slipped them back into their cardboard case,

I reasoned the cost per use went down each time I wore them.

And yet, as I backed out of my closet,

My savings account beckoned to me from

Somewhere in the vicinity of my computer.

I didn’t deserve them.

But I could own them.

I could wear them.

I could even love them, my new favorite shoes.

And yet, while I climb out of the depths of financial despair,

Somehow, more than a trophy of my recent success,

They will sit on a shelf in my closet between wearings

As a trophy of my past folly.

For even I know the landlord doesn’t accept Kenneth Cole

As rent.

Thank you, you red leather sirens.

For being beautiful.

For being fabulous.

For making me feel wonderful when I put you on.

But moreover, for reminding me

That the only lifestyle I deserve

Is the one I have earned first.

I have work to do now,

So you’ll forgive me if I don’t put any more trophies on the shelf for awhile.

In the mean time, I am quite fabulous all on my own.