Four-Inch Heels Do Not a Ditz Make, Right?

I bought a beautiful pair of brown heels yesterday. This after I decided I was going to try to really not spend money. But I've been looking for brown heels for forever because I don't buy brown Shabbos clothing because I don't have brown heels, and clearly that situation needed to be remedied. (Now, why you might ask, was I in a shoe store if I wasn't buying things I don't need...) And now I need to buy brown Shabbos clothing to go with the brown heels.

Now that you've gained a disturbing look into my ridiculous brain...

A lot of posts on my blog are about shoes and clothing. And, indeed, I spend a decent amount of time talking about these things. Which sort of bothers me. I mean, I care what I look like. I feel better about myself when I know I look good. Getting new clothing makes me happy. (It made me happier when my mother used to pay for said new clothing, but this is what I get for being a working girl.)

I'm not a ditz. I'm intellectual and academic. I read books that my friend says sound like history textbooks. ("All the Presiden's Men" is not like a history book. It is amazing.) My sister calls me, excited, to tell me who won the primaries. I like having conversations about philosophy, in which I like to name-drop famous philosophers.

All this you presumably know, but it is all to say I am not a ditz. Even if I sort of feel like one when I get all worked up about my new brown heels. I mean, I'm not a ditz, right? Right?