The Pink Shoe Diaries

i have to say, i appreciate the duality of a "walk of shame"


i stay at adam's house about 1-2 nights a week, and i never bring a change of clothes since i live essentially down the street from him. so this means that 1-2 mornings a week i am traipsing home in my nice (now wrinkled) clothes from the night before, usually carrying my heels in one hand and a steaming coffee from mary lou's in the other, hair in dissarray, sporting the giant sunglasses to cover my mascara-streaked face. and invariably i am blasting 1)van halen or 2) steely dan as my car zips into my driveway. and i live around some nosy people who are usually in various stages of leaving their homes to go to work when i return home in the morning. especially the mother who lives across the street from me. she loves to stand in her walkway in her bathrobe and shake her head at me. i dont think she knows that i have a boyfriend. she prefers to think i just have a very "active" social life.


an hour later, i am polished and ready for work. today, for instance, i arrived at the T station dressed in a cute tailored black pants suit, hair immaculate, nails polished, Metro under one arm and my Gucci bag under the other...and as i walked through the turnstile, a girl my age was coming out of the T station, wearing a sweatshirt over what seemed to be a really nice black ruffly dress, hair all messy and the remnants of smoky eye shadow on her cheeks. my walk of shame had thankfully ended, but hers had only just begun (sigh).