Am I the Only Female That Hates Shoes?

I have a confession to make: I'm not normal. Those of you that know me are nodding in agreement already, knowing that I speak the truth. Not so fast, compadres. I speak only about my feet. My feet have been deformed by bunions since I was a child. A podiatrist told me this resulted from the natural tendency for my feet to turn in. Mom bought only the best shoes when I was a child, but the die were cast in my genes.

So, why do I blather about my ailments like the aging person that I am? Well, my bunions have affected my lack of enthusiasm for shoes. All shoes cause me pain, its just the degree to which they cause pain. Let me take that back: ugly, really ugly, shoes are comfortable. Podiatrists are no help. They tell me to wear shoes that give me plenty of room (read: UGLY) and with good arch support (read: ORTHOPEDIC). You might as well knit me a shawl and give me a walker. But, they say, insurance will not pay for it if it does not cause pain when wearing appropriate shoes (read: UGLY AND ORTHOPEDIC). And, should you have he operation to fix them, you really should not wear those awful, fashionable shoes, or risk returning to bunion-land.

Pain? They want pain? How about emotional anguish? I can't wear just about any fashionable shoe. The long, pointy toes make me laugh. The European and Birkestocks just don't go with my limited evening wear. How about physical pain? Anything with a heel just shoots pain with each step.

Over time, I've just given in to apathy. I've tried wearing comfortable shoes. I had a pair of brown leather, expensive mules I loved. Because they were so comfortable, I wore them all the time, and I'll admit, they looked it. Dh called them my "cow pie" shoes, because, he said, it looked as if I were wearing two cow pies on my feet. Remarkably, these shoes suspiciously disappeared from the garage one day. I mourn my cow pie shoes.

Dh says someday, we'll get my feet fixed. Some day, like when I don't have to be on them all day long and can actually manage to have time to sit down and recover. By then, I will be in my house dress and slippers, and won't care that I can now wear killer boots.

When I read on Notes from the Trenches about What Not writing about the shoe sale at Endless, I'll admit I went to look. I momentarily dreamed about having dainty little shoes and maybe a pair of kick-ass ones. Then, I looked at the prices and again wonder where my cow pie shoes are. Luckily, it is almost spring, and in Kentucky, that's barefoot season!