A woman in comfortable shoes

Having children has completely ruined my feet. They  were pretty horrendous to begin with, but my feet are now beyond salvation. I have bunions and cracked heels and thick, gnarly toenails. My feet used to be a hefty size 9 (the most common shoe size of supermodels, a shoe store attendant once told me – presumably because he thought I needed some sort of comforting because my feet were so freaking enormous).

Some women’s feet grow larger with pregnancy. Mine didn’t. They survived two very large babies without growing a millimetre. Then baby number three came along – my teeny-tiny runt-of-the-litter baby – and my feet grew to a size 10. And never went back.

To add to the humiliation, my feet are now the same size as my husband’s. Cute. (On the bright side, I can borrow his running shoes – although I have caught him in my pink sheepskin slippers so the jury’s still out on this issue.)

I could rail against it; I could shoehorn (quite literally) my enormous red, swollen, angry extremities into pointy-toed, stiletto-heeled, Sex-And-The-City-inspired designer Georgio Ferraris (don’t google that – I made it up). But instead, I am all about comfort.

Allow me to illustrate just how much I’m about comfort. Husband and I are getting out of the house this weekend on our first off-site date night since child number three was born 11.5 months ago. Yes, of course this should have happened much sooner, but that’s a whole other blog post.

The point is this: I will be wearing Crocs. Yes, Crocs. Because I love my husband but I care more about comfort than I do about his opinion of my footwear.

crocs fuck themselves

One thing I need to make abundantly clear. I’m not talking about those hideous garish clogs that everyone thought were fantastic for about six months in the early noughties, and then realised how ugly they were and pretended they were just for gardening. Crocs have a range of flats that aren’t half bad. I bet you couldn’t even tell they were Crocs unless I took them off and you could see the tell-tale rubbery nodules on the inside.

Here they are. What do you think?


I now have two pairs of ‘subtle’ Crocs and I plan on adding to my collection until I have a pair for (almost) every occasion. I am keeping two pairs of heels for weddings, job interviews and funerals. The rest are going on eBay. Good riddance.

Important to note this is not a sponsored post. If it was, I might be more limited in how much I could make fun of Crocs.

Written By

Carolyn is the editorial director of Champagne Cartel and a freelance writer. In her spare time she is a long-distance runner, peanut butter enthusiast, and single mum to three incredible humans.


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