For the love of … shoes!

I recently got my new orthotics in the mail.

They have been a long time coming. My feet are seriously screwed up, so much so that I was hurting my knees and ankles by running around in normal shoes.

So I made the appointment and happily ordered the new inserts that would keep my feet happy.

These inserts, that will prevent pain and injury, are the end of my love affair with shoes.

I can’t wear them with even the smallest of heals, or flats, or most sandals.

Every pair of shoes that I have in  my closet, they all have to go.

To be honest, I should have thrown out most of my shoes a long time ago, right around the time I limped home, barefoot on the asphalt because they hurt my feet so badly.

But I didn’t.

They are just so pretty.

And they are the only thing that I can shop for successfully every time.

If a shoe doesn’t fit, it isn’t because I am too fat, it is because the store doesn’t have the right size.

If a shoe doesn’t look good, I don’t feel bad about the shape of my feet, I blame the shoe.

I think those are two lessons I need to bring forward into the rest of my life.

First, if it hurts me, throw it away, no matter how pretty it is, or how much money I spent on it.

Being in pain is not worth wasted money.

Second, if it doesn’t fit, I shouldn’t change to accommodate it or wear it in-spite of the fact.

Simple enough lessons but love is blinding.

I love those six-inch, cream-coloured platform pumps that are overlaid with gold lace. When I wear them for less than five minutes, strutting around my house, I feel not only beautiful but feminine, powerful and unstoppable.

But if I wear them for any longer, they give me blisters because they don’t fit properly, and I can’t go anywhere near stairs wearing them.

Every time I put them in my closet after a long day of battling the nausea that sometimes comes along with the foot pain, I swear I will never wear them again.

But as soon as the next day, when I see them discarded at the bottom of my closet, I forget the pain and just admire how pretty they are, how they make me feel for the two minutes before the blister forms and I trip.

So determined was I to rock those shoes that I thought maybe if I didn’t dance, or if I didn’t stand so much or walk around so much at events, I could still wear them.

It worked, my feet weren’t sore at the end of the day, I could walk back to the car with my shoes on my feet instead of in my hands, but I was miserable.

I didn’t visit with my friends.

I didn’t dance.

And I had to sit still for much too long.

It wasn’t worth it.

And it was finally getting a pair of orthotics that made me realize this.

So I am cleaning out my closet and going shopping for shoes that fit my orthotics and make both my mind, and my feet, feel good.