When growing up, I never aspired
for dainty feet and pretty shoes. I aspired to be a tall and well-built
astronaut. The astronaut part never happened. And the rest of the dream turned
into a nightmare.
Take something as simple as shoe buying. I have friends who could vouch for how therapeutic it is, and how they could do it 5 days a week. Not me. It is a nightmare, as always.
All I needed to buy were shoes. A pair of boots. A pair of formal shoes for the upcoming conference. And maybe, just maybe, a pair of sexy red shoes. I have a thing for red, you know!
Let's talk about the boots first. 80% of choices were eliminated right away because of heels. And 90% of the remaining, because I never get shoes my size. My feet are somewhere between 9 and 10. 9 is a tad too tight, and 10 is a tad too big. They anyway stop making shoes after size 10. The only 9.5s I saw were those that did not have a box, a price tag, a discount, a flat sole, or a second matching pair. Some of the boxes even said 9.5, but someone with a sense of humor had stuffed 7s in them. Even my hands would not fit into size 7. And then, some of them had weird designs, weird zips, and weird ornamentation not befitting my age or taste. Some that clung too tight for comfort, and some that did not want to commit totally and hung too loosely.
All I wanted were three pairs of shoes. How complicated could that be?
The boots happened after two hours of sole-searching and soul searching about why I am structurally built the way I am, boiling down my feasible choices to exactly two pairs. I scanned an entire shop, and found only two pairs that even made the cut.
I never found the formal shoes. Not with my requirements of no heels, comfortable soles, pleasing color, and decent looks. I needed no lace or ornamentation. I think I will just wear jeans and my running shoes for the conference. I have seen so many people wear jeans at the conferences, although I haven't mustered enough courage to do that. Not yet.
And the sexy pair of red shoes? Well, I realized that I was perhaps asking for too much. Maybe that could wait a couple of Seattle trips.
Take something as simple as shoe buying. I have friends who could vouch for how therapeutic it is, and how they could do it 5 days a week. Not me. It is a nightmare, as always.
All I needed to buy were shoes. A pair of boots. A pair of formal shoes for the upcoming conference. And maybe, just maybe, a pair of sexy red shoes. I have a thing for red, you know!
Let's talk about the boots first. 80% of choices were eliminated right away because of heels. And 90% of the remaining, because I never get shoes my size. My feet are somewhere between 9 and 10. 9 is a tad too tight, and 10 is a tad too big. They anyway stop making shoes after size 10. The only 9.5s I saw were those that did not have a box, a price tag, a discount, a flat sole, or a second matching pair. Some of the boxes even said 9.5, but someone with a sense of humor had stuffed 7s in them. Even my hands would not fit into size 7. And then, some of them had weird designs, weird zips, and weird ornamentation not befitting my age or taste. Some that clung too tight for comfort, and some that did not want to commit totally and hung too loosely.
All I wanted were three pairs of shoes. How complicated could that be?
The boots happened after two hours of sole-searching and soul searching about why I am structurally built the way I am, boiling down my feasible choices to exactly two pairs. I scanned an entire shop, and found only two pairs that even made the cut.
I never found the formal shoes. Not with my requirements of no heels, comfortable soles, pleasing color, and decent looks. I needed no lace or ornamentation. I think I will just wear jeans and my running shoes for the conference. I have seen so many people wear jeans at the conferences, although I haven't mustered enough courage to do that. Not yet.
And the sexy pair of red shoes? Well, I realized that I was perhaps asking for too much. Maybe that could wait a couple of Seattle trips.
sunshine
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