By misfortune, I choose to wear these festive, red heels. I thought they looked nice and they fit the holiday mood. When I slipped them on before we went to the party, I noticed they were a bit tight and a bit too tall. I thought I could handle them and they would not hurt, but I was wrong, so very wrong. Every time I take a step, I wince with pain. I only wanted to dance the night away in your arms, but I think I might have to take a break soon or my feet might just fall off.
How misfortunate that I decided to wear this dress. I thought I could please people with this dress, but the more I move in it, the more uncomfortable I am. It looks too old for my age and the dress is rather loose which allows it to rub me in all the wrong places. I thought your mother or your grandmother might appreciate me wearing an ultra conservative choice, but they still look at me like I came in wearing trash. Only this time, I actually feel like I am wearing trash.
This party is a great misfortune. I can not believe that we decided to attend this thing. With every breath I take, I can feel myself growing older and there is never enough alcohol in the world to drown out my feelings. I would love to continue to dance with you, but the music is too slow and the band seems to be barely there. Plus, the shoes are still killing me. People chatter with each other about dull things; no one seems to care whether anyone is actually going to die of boredom.
It is with great misfortune that I must endure this company. No one seems to talking about anything remotely interesting. If they do talk about something interesting, to show a different opinion is to will hate on yourself. Everyone is stuck in their ways and when they talk, they mumble under their breaths. At times, I can hear the voices of the parents in the Peanuts rather than their own. I get several glares from different people and several remarks on the person I am.
This misfortune is also fortune. Did I ever mention that I get to spend most of the party with you? Did I also mention that when this party is over I get to go home with you and spend my life with you? The shoes do not hurt when you pick me up and twirl me on the small, unoccupied dance floor. My dress does not seem so old when you whisper in my ear how beautiful I am. I feel younger and livelier when I get to be with you at the party. Everything seems more interesting when you are around. When misfortune smiles her mischievous grin at me, you are the one who brings fortune back around.
Word Count: 491