All Day I Dream About Orange

I'm obsessed with the color orange, I'm willing to admit that (not that anyone would believe me if I tried to deny it). So when I found some bright orange sneakers on sale, my heart skipped a beat and I couldn't resist.
But boy are they bright. So bright that I've noticed people looking, no, staring at my feet as they pass me. My orange shoes shuffle by and all eyes are just following their every step.

Hello, people! Eye contact, ever heard of it? My eyes are up here! Show me a little respect, please. What, am I just a nice pair of orange shoes to you?! Did you not hear about my "glorious ass" you should be staring at too? Or maybe, just maybe, you could talk to me instead of treating me like nothing more than an expertly dyed combination of leather, nylon and rubber.

This has been an epiphany. I want to apologize to all women for years of trying to secretly stare at places my line of sight should not be venturing. I realize now how disrespectful and humiliating this can be. And I promise to never stare at your chest or other various body parts again. Unless they are swathed in orange, in which case I have absolutely no control on how my eyes react.