I don't know how many miles I walked at Disneyland, but I walked most of them with a messenger bag (contents: 2 diapers, wipes, a change of clothes for for Ri & Vi, kid sunblock, video camera, digital camera, cell phone, cash, lipstick) slung across my body and--with the exception of some crucial and blessed breaks courtesy of my sister-in-law and nieces--32-pound Lea on my right hip. Now, before you think to yourself, "Well, genius, ever heard of a stroller?" let me just say that I have an inexplicable aversion to strollers. Can't do 'em.
And so my shoes of choice were reasonable. What I cannot stop thinking about are the women--some with children, some without--who chose to wear shoes like this to. a. freaking. amusement. park.
I fear their days in the Magic Kingdom did not end well. In fact, I'm sure that Disney Special Forces are sent out to scan the perimeter of the park at closing in search of females crumpled over in pain. And I'm sure these females are clutching their blistered feet and moaning something like, "Why? Why didn't I wear Pumas like that stupid woman who refused to put her kid in a stroller?"
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