The euphemism I would use to describe my guilty pleasure would be ‘caring for my babies’. And although at the surface you may not see this as a guilty pleasure at all but rather good parenting, the perspective changes when you realize that my babies are my shoes. Each pair a different shade of flaming red, my shoes are cared for by me with the same meticulous dedication that a father would tend to a child. The highs I receive from ‘adopting’ them from the store, naming them by their traits, bathing them when they get dirty, and even sometimes watching them as they sleep can only be matched by a mother nurturing her newborn. Now the pleasure that I receive from caring for these inanimate objects may seem a bit obsessive and possibly insane to you but to me it’s perfectly logical. I dedicate my time in giving my shoes the best upbringing that they possibly could have and in return they grace me with the blessings of being a proud father with undoubtedly and awesome flamboyant taste in shoes. However, when I’m sometimes watching my babies purr in their sleep, I do often see the other side of the coin. As much as my shoes mean to mean, they are in reality only inanimate objects, ones that actually cost a lot of money. It’s during these times that I often have foolish regrets of spending so much time and money on objects that were only meant to keep my feet warm. But then as I hear Dragonfruit softly snore his baby snore, I put the thought out of my head and keep on feeling like the proud parent that I am.
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