I believe almost all women are born with a passion for shoes. I love shoes. Hot high heels. Flashy flats. Sexy sandals. Clunky clogs. Super sneakers. I love shoes.
Unfortunately, I was born with really flat feet. I also was born with very narrow feet. My shoe size is 9 ½ 4AAAA. I haven’t hired a pollster to see what population of the world wears my shoe size, but it has to be maybe five other people.
My sister, Earline, was born first. Unfortunately, she had exactly the same flat, long, narrow foot as I was born with. Our brother on the other hand, was born with perfect feet. Is that fair? Men don’t want hot high heels, flashy flats, sexy sandals. They probably want clunky clogs and super sneakers though. I often asked God why brother got the great feet and sister and I who were BORN to wear beautiful shoes got the ugly feet. God never bothered to answer that question.
It’s safe to say I had a shoe fetish. Only problem was finding a shoe that would fit. As my father was a minister, there wasn’t a lot of money in our house for two girls with flat, long, narrow feet to feed our shoe fetish. So we went through our teenage years with shoes that never fit. They all flopped because they were too wide. With flashy flats it wasn’t such a big deal. With hot high heels, it was a big deal. We walked out of those heels quite often. Or in my case, turned my ankle or tripped and fell. I was the clutzy child. I could find an accident when one wasn’t looking for me.
My husband, Jimmy, God bless him, early on in our marriage decided he should have checked my “hoofs” before marrying someone who could only be fitted properly in a shoe that carried the name “Stuart Weitzman”. I realize for men that name probably doesn’t mean anything. For women, it means bunches of bucks to buy a pair of shoes.
After twelve years of marriage, Jimmy and I had jobs that paid decent wages. I bought my first pair of Stuart Weitzman shoes. They FIT! I had never had a shoe that had FIT before! There were black high heels. Then I needed navy high heels. Red high heels. White. Yellow (yes, yellow). Brown. Taupe. Bronze. Silver. Gold. And a few colors “especially made by Stuart Weitzman”. I didn’t buy them all at once. I accumulated them. I NEEDED them! Except for black and those were twice a year because my very flat foot stretched them out and I was again walking out of them.
Several years ago my shoe salesman called to tell me he was having a special trunk show of spring and summer shoes. I’d never been to a trunk show of anything except at garage sales! We didn’t actually move in the social or financial circle that attended trunk shows. I had to ask him what a trunk show WAS! This trunk show was in October. Mr. Salesman convinced me that I NEEDED to order the shoes I would need in the spring and summer to make sure I got what I NEEDED because Mr. Salesman didn’t carry a lot of my size shoes on a regular basis. I grabbed that hook like a starving fish. I’m sure women reading this understand that NEED!
And so, I ordered shoes. Hot high heels, flashy flats, sexy sandals. I ordered in bulk. I NEEDED all those shoes. I NEEDED ten pair of shoes. I PAID for ten pair of shoes. Shoes I wouldn’t even see for six months! I told my husband. He said “you did WHAT?” But being a great sales person, I convinced him I NEEDED those shoes. Well, that last sentence might be an untruth. More likely he mentally threw his hands in the air and reminded himself of the wedding vows we made! I think he’s had to do a lot of that in these 43 years!
Six months later my shoes arrived at Mr. Salesman’s store. I, with great joy in my heart, drove to the store to pick them up. They were beautiful. Hot high heels, flashy flats, sexy sandals. I experienced the strongest surge of endorphins I’d ever had.
I wore the black, brown, navy, and bronze a lot. Not so much on the other colors. In fact, five pairs of those shoes only walked three steps on carpet as I modeled my shoes for a loving husband. Those five pairs of shoes have never been worn again.
Out of nowhere, one of my very flat feet had an instant sharp pain as I walked to my car. The pain was so bad; I had to take my shoe off. The next day I couldn’t walk on that foot. In desperation I called my foot doctor and told him it was an emergency. I hobbled into his office; he took x-rays, felt around on my foot and said the dreaded words no woman wants to hear. Plantar fasciitis. I didn’t know it, but my fate was sealed. I was in a “walking boot” for six months.
I had lots of physical therapy. I even took a month off from work. To no avail. I would never wear those hot high heels again. I did wear the flashy flats a few times and the sexy sandals once. Then I had to wear the super sneakers all the time.
In my dress for success business suit, I wore super sneakers. Every day. Until those didn’t work anymore. The surgeon fused bones in my foot so I could walk. And gave me braces to support both feet until I could have surgery on my other foot to fuse it. Now I wear combat boots with my braces so I can walk. Remember that insult when we were kids “your Mother wears combat boots”? I do.
I was terribly upset at having bought all those shoes, never having worn some of them, and knowing I never would be able to wear them. I wasn’t just upset. I was almost physically sick over it! I’d even had a special shoe closet built in the new house. So, my shoes sat in the shoe closet until we moved from San Antonio to St. Charles, MO. Now they are still in the same boxes in which they were moved almost seven years ago.
When I knew I could never wear them again, I had a REAL hot flash and told my husband that I’d bought those shoes, paid a small fortune for them, and was taking them with me when I died. I wanted them in my casket. Yes, he thought I was crazy. He still does. So does everyone else who has heard my story. When I wrote in my first story that I wanted my shoes in my casket, I had a lot of questions from friends who asked if I was serious. So far, I’m holding strong for those shoes to be in my casket. Reality? I’ll be dead to this world, won’t care what’s in my casket and Jimmy and/or my family can do what they want!
I’ll never go to a trunk show of anything again. And too late I remembered the scripture “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth….but lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven…..for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Matthew 16:19-21.
My treasures are in Heaven. I believe I’ll be walking on streets of gold in shoes made by God.
Now you know the rest of the story!
No comments:
Post a Comment