My shoe battles
I hate shoes. I want to like them, I really do. I can appreciate a gorgeous shoe like anyone else. Except to me it’s more like artwork, to be admired from afar and perhaps lusted after, but knowing all the while that it’s completely out of my reach.
You see I have lumpy, awkward feet. They are wide at the front and skinny at the heel. My toes could affectionately be called french-fry toes, cause, you know, they are long and scraggly. Except for my pinkie-toe – it’s the serious runt of the litter. All in all, it makes for a mess of awkward shapes that do not correspond to the shape of shoes available for purchase at all. Attempting to usually leads to pain.
I’m nothing if not practical, and to be honest, even if my feet weren’t totally wonky, I probably still wouldn’t wear pretty shoes on a regular basis. I have places to go, at a brisk pace! Teetering on high heels is just seriously going to slow me down. And really, what is the point of being in discomfort on a daily basis? To look good? Pssht! That’s just not a compromise I’ve ever been willing to make, though I do admire the hell out of women who do as I breeze past them on the sidewalk.
But at parties where I don’t need to travel anywhere briskly, except maybe the bar, I would love to wear something like this.
At the store I might pick this up, run my hand along it, and pretend for a brief, glorious moment that I am one of those people who could actually wear this out in the world. Without grimacing. I’m also hoping to throw off the sales-people who by this point have probably seen my hideous man-loafers and are trying to decide if they should be nice to me in case it’s a Pretty-Woman type of situation, or if I’m just a lost cause.
Under desperate circumstances, like when I needed shoes for my wedding, I actually try to force my feet into some of these gorgeous, delicate shoes. It never ends well.* I always hope and pray that the salesperson will just leave the shoes with me and walk away, so I don’t have to defile them right in front of him/her. If they stay, I try to slip the shoe on under the cover of nearby objects all stealthy-like, which probably just makes them wonder why the girl with the weird feet puts her shoes on crouched under a bench.
For the most part I’ve come to be at peace with my hideously practical shoe collection by avoiding all full-length mirrors and pretending that anything below my ankles isn’t actually visible. But in August, I am a bridesmaid at a dear friend’s wedding and feel responsible for dressing my feet in something decent, since photographs prove that my shoes actually are visible to the outside world.
My dress hasn’t arrived yet, but this is what it looks like on a stick figure – to get a better idea, just picture it on someone with a bone-structure that would actually be able to stand-up under the earth’s gravity. It’s really quite cute! And it has pockets! There are endless cute blog-worthy photo-ops possible.
The bride is pretty easy-going on what we pick, but that’s only because she thinks about shoes the way most normal people do; just pick a cute heel and be done with it. Sigh… I wish it were that simple for me.
So in preparation, I have been looking at shoes for months now. I keep eyeing the styles in the stores, trying to pinpoint one that might work to accommodate my feet while not being totally offensive to her wedding aesthetic. If I’m a little optimistic and bring a lot of bandages, one of these might work:
What do you think? Wedding acceptable?
*Needless to say my wedding shoes did not get photographed.