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I often find myself helping people with their strollers and luggage at tube stations because it seems no one else does, and I feel bad for them. I’m not claiming to be a saint, but I can’t just walk past someone clearly in need of assistance. Still, there are times when I halfway regret offering my help. It might sound unkind, but it’s true. There I am, dealing with a gigantic stroller crashing into my legs, and I know I’ll end up with bruises. In my mind, I’m yelling, “Why are you on the tube with such a massive pram?” Or I’m at one end of a large suitcase that feels like it could contain a dozen bodies, thinking, “Why didn’t you just take a cab?”
It really bothers me when I’m helping someone and a bunch of strong guys just push past without offering assistance. They’re usually the least likely to lend a hand, and it really irritates me. Anyway, enough of my rant, let me tell you about the help episode yesterday that I wish I’d never started.
There was a man in a wheelchair at the bottom of a big staircase, just sitting there looking up. I wondered, “Can wheelchairs even climb stairs?” I was wearing a light summer dress and not much underneath, and it was a bit windy. I asked him if he needed help, and he nodded and sprang up from his chair. Only then did I realize he was a dwarf, as he came up to about my waist. Not that his height mattered—it just set the scene. If he had been behind me on the stairs, it could have been even more chaotic!
We lifted the wheelchair up together, and I could faintly hear him talking, but I couldn’t tell if he was saying, “You can go faster” or “You’re going too fast.” I was trying to concentrate on listening when my dress decided to take flight. It was the kind that, once it starts, really takes off. Soon enough, the hem was around my head. I couldn’t just let go of the wheelchair; I might have sent him tumbling down the stairs, and I couldn’t tell him to put it down since he was busy trying to communicate whether to slow down or speed up.
Moral of the story: help people, but not if you’re wearing a skirt or dress, because those around you will get an unexpected show! Also, avoid helping in heels (you might break your neck) or if you’re drunk.
I’m grateful my derrière looked toned, thanks to my time at the Educogym and my Fitflops. I can’t say if they truly tone your bottom, but they’re very comfortable and better for your posture than regular flip-flops. They don’t flip about, and they have thick, supportive soles with some kind of core-engaging technology. I walk faster in them, almost as if I’m being gently nudged downhill, and my feet don’t tire as quickly.
I have a pair with bronze sequins, but there are many styles. My mom has silver trainers, which she loves, and I also own some cozy, Ugg-style ones. While they might not be the most stylish shoes, I’d say Fitflop does a pretty good job making them look decent—the original models were quite functional-looking!
So, there you have it: an anecdote, a little review, and a plug for my mom’s blog all rolled into one. Fitflops can be found in various places like Sweaty Betty, John Lewis, and even Boots, besides their own site!