Skip to content

Baby got new shoes




At last

Originally uploaded by freerangelibrarian.

We look for signs everywhere, seeking confirmation from simple things of our hopes and plans.

Late last November I ordered a pair of brown shoes, size 5M. Nothing fancy, just nice shoes for dress slacks, comfortably padded. I mail-order almost all my shoes, and that’s not just a Tallahassee thing. I can’t walk into a store and find piles of shoes in my size; in fact, most shoe stores just shrug me off. My experience with the “good shoe store” in Tally was that the clerk told me I was really a 6 and then stuffed things into the toe of a pair of ugly shoes to convince me to buy them, which did not go far with me.

The shoes promptly went back-order, with an estimated ship date of March. Since then, I have ordered three other pairs of brown shoes, and sent all of them back; they were all too big, size inflation having apparently hit the shoe market as well. I couldn’t exchange them because the shoes weren’t available in smaller sizes.

I pondered foot extension surgery, something to bring me up one full shoe size, to a 6. Women may constantly yearn to be a smaller dress size, but no one ever says, “I’m so happy my feet are size 5.” You can’t see the difference to have size 5 feet, and it just brings grief to your life.

My pretty new brown pantsuit, bought with such anticipation (and half-off, too), patiently hung in the closet, its tags dangling in the dark, its pants hems quietly awaiting chalk and ruler.

Time came, time went. Once in a while I wore a horribly outdated pair of brown shoes with another outfit (shoes that also clacked so loudly on the library floor that students would turn and frown), but I deigned not to despoil the perfect brown suit with the wrong shoes.

My “summer job” ended.

The email then arrived: “Your shoes are shipping.”

Sure, whatever. I’ve been through this.

I slip them on my feet.

I stand, I walk. They’re perfect.

New shoes, to take me new places.

Posted on this day, other years: