As much as I hate to relent to the vitality of practicality in daily life, I'll be one to admit, it is a quality worth revitalizing in the mainstream conveniences of everday. My unconventional nature is an ultimate irony to this fact yet complacent to it's truth in the wears upon my feet. In reality, high school permits little convenience to the strapping heels I so desire to attain right of ownership to. Yet, there still aren't enough homecomings in a seemingly nonexsistant football season (inside joke) to justify this purchase in diversifying the range of my small scale shoe collection. Therefore, a flat sole for now will be comprable in feeding the estrogen enriched soul.
Which presents me to my next point introducing the similar complexities of hormones in resistance v. embrace-ment of the sneaker. May I remind you that the current topic of discussion does not provide an analysis of just any sneaker, no. But rather those in appeal to masculinity as opposed to the pimped out and further blinged out-Nicki Minaj-twinkle toes nature promoted by a variance in Adidas and Sketchers alike. It is a struggle in fighting both urges to swoon upon the simplistic elegance of a suede pump and nike frees in similar enchantment and equal eagerness in ownership. I get it, I've been there, regularly. And when I went there I responded in a fashion that any knowledgeable aspiring young female citizen would. I bought both in justification that the monthly hormones induced by my physique will teeter. And when they totter I will own a shoe to uphold the wishes of my perpetually confused body. There, I can be swaggy Justin Bieber and adolescent transgender Justin Bieber at my own whim. A capability never worth invalidating, never.
In sum: currently owning too may variances of Nike, a fact of which I have toats come to terms with.
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