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Dear Flats,

As a 5’4 woman, I’m not a huge fan. But as a woman who had to make the transition from a place where I drove (Los Angeles) to a place where I didn’t (New York), I had to welcome you into my life. My daily walking regimen in the big city required that I lower my expectations of my feet. I knew that putting aside my collection of heels for you would mean compromising my style but I also expected the transition to mean more comfort and agility in my everyday life. Or so I thought.

Oh, flats, where to begin. For something so simple, you do such complicated things to my feet. You misled me with your simple exterior and your promises of comfort. I soon discovered that it wouldn’t be an even exchange. For giving up inches from my frame, I got shoes that left me with bruises on the side of my feet and skin burns on my heels.

Before you, I didn’t have to keep a steady supply of band-aids in my home and in my purse. These band-aids help me barricade myself from your chafing ways. Recently, I’ve upgraded to Dr. Scholls Moleskin and I’ve also invested in insoles. I would’ve thunk that you would’ve thunk to equip yourself with extra padding since so many of us turn to you for comfort. My, was I fooled.

Flip-flops, which are supposed to represent the epitome of ultimate comfort, especially aggravate the area between my big toe and the adjacent toe. I have yet to downgrade stylistically to crocs, and I would hope that you let your manufacturers know that a woman who of my style substance shouldn’t have to turn to those just to get back and forth from work comfortably. In all fairness, it’s not bad the whole time with you. At times, after painful weeks of breaking you in, I’m able to work with you. But those first few weeks are a pain nonetheless.

All I’m asking of you, flats, is to meet me halfway. If I’ve sacrificed style for you, I think you can make good on your promise.

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