Long ago, in a time of ever-raging wars (late 2020,) I was given a gift by anonymous benefactors. Enfolded in that seasonal wrapping paper was a pair of shoes, shaped as both flip-flops and slippers, forged of soft plastic foam. And though they kept out no snow, nor gripped the dirt, or even supported the heels in sprinting, I loved them enough to name them.
These were my slip slops. I wore them well, until I wore them out.
As the preamble said, I loved these things. I wore them practically all the time, although as they got more beat up it stopped being appropriate to wear them in public. It feels like there were always marks, chipped paint, and broken seams as long as I've had them. But I remember them always being soft and warm, yet open enough to regulate heat; it never felt unconfortable to wear them, though they did feel a little big on me for a while.
That wear and tear did eventually affect the structural integrity of the slops, though...
Yes, they started falling apart, bursting at the seams, tearing to shreds. I knew I needed some new footwear for a long while, but I insisted on wearing these until they gave out. But as you can see in the picture, before they became unusable, they became really, really difficult to wear. I wore them scarcely at that point, usually wearing some warm, fuzzy slippers I also got as an earlier Christmas gift instead, but another pair of slip slops also showed up around this time.
I picked these out because they were the cheapest of an appropriate size. They're solid plastic, no fabric strap like the old slops. And I did not like them. When I first tried wearing them at home, they felt hard, cramped, and sweaty, the drainage holes felt like they were biting me, and it left this oily residue on my feet. I talked to my benefactors about taking them back and getting something, anything else. They assured me that they would feel comfortable if I wore them enough, so I tried pushing through a couple times, but I always found myself going back to the old slip slops, with their breathable fabric and big, soft soles.
Of course, once when the old things finally broke, I knew I had to move on. I picked out this can of worms from the shoe store, and now I had to lie in it. It didn't turn out to be so bad, though. Perhaps now that it was unavoidable, (unless I wanted to wear my fuzzy slippers in the summer heat,) they started to not feel so horrible. They were feeling more spacious, they stopped biting me - I was getting used to them. The oily residue did take a while to go away, though. Regardless, with the slip slops of old past, I'm glad to have these now. I had an idea to give them a ridiculous name, like "Slip Slops of the Future, Today," since I love doing that. I like the ring to that.
On a closing note, this page is now radically different than how it used to be. You can see my breakdown* over the old slops' death in real time here.
* This is an exaggeration. The page does not show much emotion. If there were a breakdown, it would have been in private, surrounded by my anonymous benefactors.
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