Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought shoes consisted of One Big Choice: Reebok vs Nike. Then she discovered skirts, and got a job. About this time, her best friend adjusted her world's axis with Four Verra Important Words:
Shoes Make The Outfit.
Marilyn Monroe Agrees. And Demonstrates.
The girl never wore gym shoes again, except to the gym.
She blew past Payless Shoe Source without a backward glance.
She spent long afternoons in the Macy's shoe department.
When feeling cash flush, she wandered through Nordstrom.
It was like a new crush, the sweaty palms and racing heart when HE looks back at you.
Zappos became a loving, caring friend, one who answered every order with a happy email.
Franco Sarto leather showed off her calves and clicked sexily down the sidewalks.
Bandolino and Etienne Aigner, once exotic, now anchored her shoe racks.
(Side note: The girl never lost her mind. While Jimmy Choo is probably a very nice fellow and an excellent dinner companion, he asks for a whole paycheck for one pair of shoes. The girl also likes a roof over her head and food in the fridge. Call her crazy.)
Ankles swelled with disease.
Joints waved a white flag.
Toes wept for gel inserts.
One afternoon, while limping across a large parking lot to their car, her hubby turned to her asked, "I notice most older women wear more comfortable shoes. Why aren't you?"
W H A T?
Umm, would you repeat that question?
She stood up straighter. She walked with purpose. She threw her shoulders back. And she gritted her teeth. Ohhhh, it hurt alright, but she'd rather drink Drano than admit it.
The next year, she began reading shoe descriptions a bit more closely. How tall is that heel? 4"? Got anything in a 2.5"? She began to wander through the "walking shoes" section, searching out anything with a hint of style, a touch of heel, perhaps a wedge, but with a newly coveted squishy sole.
And then it happened.
While sitting at a Starbucks, she saw a gorgeous young girl. Long legs. Short shorts. Wicked Gorgeous Shoes. Something like this... And the girl limped to the nearest seat and plopped down. With Relief. The older girl smiled in sympathy.
Own it while you can, Sista. It's a beautiful time.
Cuz the fact is, I would if I could.
Then the older girl, in her -- god help her -- sensible shoes, got up from table and walked away. "Walked" being the key word here.
Anyone else suffering in the name of fashion?
This post was inspired by Brenda over at Grrlguide. She sends her sympathies from the pedicure chair. Thanks, Brenda!