30 July 2012

Be Honest with Your Shoes

They can take it. The shoes. There comes a time in all relationships for the talk: "Where are we going?  How are you supporting me? Is the attraction still there?"

I had to go through this the other day. I put it off long enough. The time had come.

Finally I went through the laundry basket of shoes in my closet.  Yes, I know that storing shoes haphazardly in a laundry basket is sacrilege in some peoples eyes.  Nor is it convenient nor helpful.  Just ask Kevin. 

I broke up with:
a pair of hard-heeled, and high heeled, boots that I not only haven't worn since forever but now look a little dated. 
A pair of those ugly brown LL Bean slip-ons that were a little too big (new requirement: shoes that fit) and that Kevin hated.

Obviously, gone are the shoes that tried to kill me.

Not quite gone are sandals.  They are in a drawer, where all sandals should be stored, yes?   One is a broken down, well-loved pair of salt-water sandals.  The straps hit *just* below the screw heads in my ankle.  I think keeping these are more of a sentimental decision than anything else.

The other pair are black Mephistos that actually feel a little cozy.  That's something I never thought I would say about sandals ever again.  I'm keeping them until I gain the courage (and strength) to attempt to wear shoes without a brace or that are not high-tops.

I kept my skater shoes but took out the clunky, too big, hiker boots.

This leaves me with my old, trusted Danskos that didn't try to kill me.  Two pairs of regular sneakers.  My red shoes that I wrote about months ago that are the cure for a bad day.  Also, I did keep a pair of red LL Bean slip-ons that actually fit and Kevin doesn't hate. Much.

I also have one pair in the maybe pile.  They are Earth shoes that I got at work, they are black, brushed suede, and kind of a slipper-style.  I wasn't super hip on them before so I'm not sure why they are still in the basket.  Probably so I have more than one pair of black shoes.  I think they're supposed to be good for your posture too.  Yeah, that's it.

Oh, and snow boots.  I kept my snow boots.

And my cool, black & sparkly, Sketchers that I refer to as my Vegas shoes.  

All in all, the culling wasn't too difficult.  I'm mourning the sandals mostly, and I haven't even committed to tossing them yet. 

Of course, I really will probably only wear sneakers from here on out but let's call this the first step of unfriending of my shoes.  I'll do the true break-up in a few months.

((I cannot take full-credit for this post idea.  It came up in conversation during physical therapy with a human I really enjoy: my p/t Loretta.))

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