You’re right, it is only 30 something degrees outside.  But I don’t feel the cold.  What I do feel is formal shoes tearing my feet apart.  I have bad feet, just as I have bad joints, and a misfiring brain.  So I do not feel the cold, but I feel the way my work shoes rub at my bunion that formed on my left big toe.  A rubbing I don’t feel in flip flops.

You’re perhaps right that it is embarrassing to be seen with me, as I wear improper foot wear in the dead of winter.  But that embarrassment is your choice to act upon.  Those who care the most about me choose me over my foot wear embarrassment and move past it because they care more about me than what I wear.  My shoes are my choice.  I put effort into making sure they are at least presentable, not worn down, and even pretty to look at, even if they are indeed flip flop in February. Even if I didn’t put in that effort, they are my feet, my shoes and my choice.  And you too have a choice.  You can let something so trivial stand in our way of spending time together, or you can move past it and decide me, and my comfort, are more important.

I live in chronic pain.  Boohoo, oh I know.  Quite the sob story.  Fine.  But if there is something so simple I can do to sob less, I’m going to do it with no shame.  No.  Shame.  I have 1 week without work and without formal shoes to allow my feet to heal as much as possible before I tear them up again.  And I will take every second of that to allow them to heal.

And if you are going to make the choice to not be seen with me in public, in Meijers at that, then I hold my right to make the choice of who I surround myself with.  And I choose people who care more about me, and my comfort, than they do about whether flip flops are proper foot wear in winter.  Because ultimately, who really cares?

Besides you.

Certainly no one at Meijers.  Lord knows, I spent 40 hours a week there for nearly a year.  I assure you, my flip flops are classy.

Something your behavior and words were not.

I’ve always suspected how you felt.  I always feared what was said behind my back to others.  And now I suppose I know.  You said it to my face, feeling no shame.

As I type these words, I don’t claim class, or to be better than anyone.  But I can claim that of all the reasons I could choose to not be seen with you in public, of which there are plenty enough, I keep them to myself and would never dream of acting upon them because ultimately deep friendship is what matters most.  My caring about you is what matters the most.

However misguided that caring may have been.

I’m known to be irrational.  And if calling me such, or thinking me such allows you to feel better about this, and sleep better at night, then go ahead.  Because frankly, I don’t give a damn.

Because frankly, my flip flops, in winter, far out class your decision, actions, but mostly your words, today.

No one is allowed to make me feel how you tried to make me feel.  Tried.

Tried