Choose your wardrobe wisely

This is the first of many entries today. I have a lot on my mind -- good things of course -- and since I have no one to blab this all to after work, this is the next best thing.

Excuse me if I go on and on, as I naturally tend to do.

The first entry is about my first day of work. Here goes...

Yesterday I did a bad thing.

I chose fashion over comfort, heels before healthy feet. After only a 15-minute trek to work, I knew I had made a stupid mistake. Instead of commuting in sandals, I had forgotten them in my closet.

It was one of those mistakes you dread making on your first day of work. The kind of thing when your boss tells you to make copies for him and 20 minutes later you still haven’t figured out which end shoots out the paper. Or when you’re supposed to show up for work at 8 a.m. and barely make it through the door at 9.

My mistake not only caused me personal humiliation but also pain that will last a week, at least.

But I didn’t know yesterday – my first day – would involve walking the equivalent of a 5k. Shortly after I got to work, Star Tribune correspondent Kevin Diaz decided he’d be the day’s chauffer.

We began perusing the top floor at the National Press Club, where I learned where to get free carbs and where to work them off, where to see people like Sen. Hillary Clinton (she left the building soon after I arrived) and where to expense important dinners.

Later we hiked over to the metro. This wasn’t a big deal. It was only a few blocks away from the office, but it was a small indication of the pain I would later suffer. The burning had begun.

It was his job to get me a press pass at the Senate, but not before giving me a tour around the Capitol. We walked up and down the stairs, from the Senate chambers to the House chambers and back to the Senate, to a House building for cafeteria chow. By the time we had walked the grounds for about an hour, I knew I was in trouble.

I wanted to cry the whole way back to the metro.

Once we got back to the office, I parked myself at the computer and took off the heels. They went back on, only when I needed a snack and had to pee. I’m sure if anyone from the bureau had seen me limp to the deli or the bathroom, they would have laughed. A rookie mistake. Always wear comfortable shoes.

I dreaded the walk home. Despite my efforts to save money, I flirted with the idea of taking a cab. I also contemplated walking home barefoot. I didn’t care about how dumb I would look – I already achieved that walking in two-inch heels around the Captiol – or about the tetanus shot I would certainly need.

Fortunately, my sister was my savior. She picked me up from work and brought a gift – my old, cheap sandals.

Yesterday I decided to be a whore for shoes – a phrase a girl who I met freshman year in college always used. She wore fashionable, expensive shoes and paid for it dearly. Too bad I didn’t learn any lessons from her bloody feet.

At least I can help those who have yet to enter the work force. Choose your shoes wisely.