I realize I am risking alienating or possibly even losing some of my readers with this revelation, but the time has come to declare it to the world: I love Crocs.
I don’t care how other people think they look. I think they’re actually kinda cute. And they are super-comfortable, so easy to slip on and wade in the river or wash the car or schlep around the house.
I have a pink pair for when I’m feeling sassy, a black pair for when I’m feeling more subdued, and now a fuzzy faux-shearling-lined navy blue pair, which I found at a deep discount today at the local super store.
I can wear these all winter, they’re so cozy. Just around the house, though … I have to have something on my feet at all times because my dogs trail water all over the kitchen floor from their beards after they hit the water bowl, and I hate stepping in water while wearing socks. Also, I have the world’s most delicate piddies and the world’s lowest tolerance for pain, so protecting my toes from being stubbed or even stepped on by a 20-lb dog is essentially a matter of life and death. As you might suppose, I do not run around barefoot, ever, even on carpet. Even when the dogs aren’t home.
As for taking my Croc-clad tootsies out on the town, well … what with camera phones and the internet nowadays, I’m just not sure that’s really in my best interests. People can be so cruel.*
* No, this is NOT me, or my Crocs.