Dear Hot Pink Guess Heels [that I love so dearly],
How else can I say this except plainly, I love you. I love the way you make my legs look, I love how I can see the reflection of the world in your shiny hot pink exterior. I love how I wear you with whatever outfit I'm wearing, regardless of color or style. You are just that cool, you go with anything. Thank for all your effort in making me look fabulous.
Sincerely, Jenni
If this email had been written from my feet, it would have gone something along the lines of this:
Dear Cruel Insturments of Torture,
I'm going to get right to the point here. I hate your guts. I'm not sure when jamming five toes into a tight triangle and then asking them to parade around holding150lbs 120lbs of weight all day became okay. It doesn't even make sense. Callouses, blisters, BLOOD...nothing stops you. I'm not entirely convinced that you are not satan, finding ever creative ways to lure "Eve" into temptation that will ultimately ruin her.
I'm writing you to tell you that I hope you choke and die.
Respectfully,
Jenni's Feet
I'm going to get right to the point here. I hate your guts. I'm not sure when jamming five toes into a tight triangle and then asking them to parade around holding
I'm writing you to tell you that I hope you choke and die.
Respectfully,
Jenni's Feet
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