This is My Confession

Hi, my name is Marianne, and I have a shoe addiction.

I went to Target last week to replace my black flats and my leopard print flats. You know, with the money I don't have. I've literally worn holes into both and figured it was only a matter of time before people started giving me the stink eye for my disheveled footwear.

My intention was to leave with two pairs of shoes, at most. I left with five (in my defense, two were only 5 bucks each).

I got home and scrambled to figure out where in sam hell I was going to put five more pairs of shoes. I live in a decent sized house and have a decent sized room with a decent sized closet. Storage shouldn't be an issue, right? Well, in theory. Except when this is your shoe collection:

Those shoes under hold 12 pairs each (ps, they look like they have solid supports in them on the infomercial and online. lies. they're actually pretty flimsy, but work for now.). The one on the bottom has at least 24 pairs crammed into it.

And then we have the other 12 on the back of my door:

And the two shelves with shoes crammed in them.

And the boots shoved behind my lower rack of hanging clothes. And in the corner of the closet.

And the tennies and winter boots and sandals either in the back-hall closet or storage tub in the garage.

I need a storage unit like this:

Hello, beautiful. I love you.

So, yes, I have a serious problem. But isn't that first step to the road to recovery? Admitting you have a problem?

Maybe someday I'll admit to my other addiction: clothes. Honestly, you could probably go shopping in my closet. Disgusting.

(C25k update: I'm going to have to restart. Came down with a nasty cold Thursday after my run and was in bed all weekend. As soon as I can breathe again, I'll start it back up. And probably do it on a treadmill this time so I don't get sick again.)