I’m not a shoe person. I couldn’t distinguish a sling-back from a pump. In my closet there is a pair of white reebok tennis shoes, blue flip flops, and some strappy black things my cousin bought me to wear to a wedding where I ended up twisting my ankle after drinking several mojitos. She blames the alcohol. I blame the shoes.
Most of my days are spent barefoot. I slip my shoes off at work and run my feet into the carpet under my desk. When I get home, the first thing I do is kick off my shoes. I won’t get near a pair of Jimmy Choos and just thinking about Manolo Blahnik gives me athletes foot.
So why am I writing about shoes? A writing instructor planted the idea in my head one day during class and its been there ever since. I tried to ignore it, but it kept popping back up like a ball in a swimming pool. So in an attempt to rid myself of the beast, I decided to say a little something about shoes.
Shoes are overpriced and take up way to much room in a closet. They cause bunions and can be a constant source of back pain. Most of them are ugly and impractical, but we buy them anyway. We ooh and aah over them like they are works of art. We stuff our feet into their awkward shapes and no matter how many blisters they cause or how much pain we are in, we walk on.
It’s not all about woman here. What the hell is a brogue? And why do men need 20 pairs of tennis shoes? Do they even play tennis?
The only good thing I have to say about shoes is that they come in a box. The thing I love best about shoes is the shoebox. Shoeboxes have so many uses from storing nuts and bolts to making doll houses for trolls. To throw one away would be sacrilege.
So there you have it, my little something about shoes. I feel free already and so do my bare feet.