When I was 6 or 7 my mom took me to the Stride Rite store to get Sunday shoes.
I’m not sure where she took the other kids but because my feet were very wide this was where we bought my shoes.
His verdict “They feel a little tight, I’ll see if I have the next size up.
He disappeared into the back and I admired my beautiful shoes in the mirror. I tried to wiggle my toes... he was right a bigger size would be better...
But he came back empty handed. No bigger size.
My mom encouraged me to find a different pair.
I had found true love, there could be no other.
She and the shoe man suggested all kinds of other shoes but I was sold.
THE PERFECT SHOE was worth a little discomfort.
I wanted these and no others. They weren't really that bad. My mom and the man looked at each other and reluctantly my mom bought the shoes carefully saving the receipt and discussing the return policy with the man.
Sunday could not come soon enough for me. I was very careful not to let anything scratch the beautiful shiny black leather.
But they were squishy.
We were not even in the building before my feet started to hurt.
Before the end of church my beautiful shoes were no longer on my feet but in my hand.
My pain was double, my feet as well as my heart.
Monday the shoes went back. I don’t remember what I got in their place
but they didn’t hurt my feet.
That day I accepted the COLD HARD FACTS:
When it came to shoes I was not Cinderella but one of the step sisters.
From then on when it came to shoes, if they were the right color and fit, I got them, ugly or not. That is until recently... stay tuned for part II