If the Shoe Fits...

FlyLady tells me every morning to put my shoes on, even if I'm staying in the house. But I have been rebelling against it from the beginning. I see the email reminder and quickly delete it from my inbox without even reading it. Tell me to clean the toilet. Tell me to clean my sink. Remind me to fix dinner. But don't tell me to wear shoes. Who do you think you are? My mother?! I like not wearing shoes. When I wear shoes in the house it sounds like a T-rex is roaming around in here.

But lately, my legs and feet have been aching. Not only from being on my hard, wooden floors all day without shoes, but wearing shoes that are not at all comfortable when I do go out. I have a hard time finding shoes that are cute, comfortable, and most importantly cheap. I hate to spend money on shoes. I know women are supposed to love shoes. I'm supposed to have a closet full. But my husband currently has more shoes than I do. I hate purse shopping, too, but that's another blog. Anyway, I have a hard time finding shoes I like within my price range. So I end up running to the nearest Payless and buying something really cheap or whatever is on clearance at Target. Some women have a shoe fetish. I have a shoe-phobia.

Today Hubby offers to watch the kids so I can go shoe shopping. I know I need to. My legs are begging me to. So I go. I have strict instructions to go buy two nice pairs of shoes that feel good, no matter what they cost. First stop - department store. I walk in and see the clothing first. I need some new clothes for spring. I don't think Hubby would mind. He'd probably be glad that I actually shopped for myself instead of the kids. So I browse the racks. I always scan for clearance or sale signs first. Bingo. I see some cute shirts for $6.00 each. Nothing special. Just some pretty colored crew shirts, but cute. I pick out turquoise and pink. I like the lime green, but I tend to look dead in it. And I prefer to look alive whenever possible. So, I'd like some new capri pants. Maybe some of those cute denim ones with a big cuff at the bottom. Maybe a sassy belt, too. What luck! I find a pair with a black, silver studded belt. Oooooo. So biker chic. I opt for a size smaller than usual. I know I haven't lost that much weight, and it will all probably end in heartache, but I'm feeling adventurous. So I start looking for the fitting rooms, which appear to be hidden. I finally stumble upon them and start to go in when I notice two women talking and looking at me. Weird, I think. They're probably thinking how cute I am. Or maybe they are wanting to know where I got my adorable new haircut. Then one of them stops me. She is very young and very beautiful. She is about as big around as my thigh with long, curly, light brown hair and enormous blue eyes. What? She wants beauty secrets from me? She looks at me, completely deadpan, "Would you like to try those on?" Oh. She's an employee. "Uh, yeah," I say, having my bubble burst wide open. "You'll need one of these," she hands me one of those plastic tag thingies with the number 3 on it.

Fitting rooms intimidate me. But I press on, determined to produce forth some amazing fashion miracle that will make me look skinny and 10 years younger. First the pants. Drum roll, please. I get them up to my thighs. Hmmmmm. Maybe a smaller size was stupid. Undaunted, I wiggle them on over my hips and suck in a bit, but - Ta da! - get them on! Okay, my flabby tummy has gathers in it, looking like a flesh shirt tucked into the pants. Gross. Then I turn around and look (gasp!) at the backside. Who the heck designed these pockets???!!! Why do you make jeans for a fat girl and put pockets on the rear the size of a Post It??!!! Yeah, that's really flattering. Take a big butt and accentuate it by shrinking the pockets. And what's this above the pockets? A very intricate and lovely embroidered butterfly design graces the space between the waistband and the pockets drawing more attention to my derriere. Why not just attach a "Wide Load" sign with flashing lights? PLEASE LOOK AT MY BIG BUTT!!! But that's not even the thing that really grabs my attention. I know they have to put those white plastic things on there that keep people from shoplifting, but why would you put it on the seam that runs down my butt, thus making it appear that I passed a white, plastic anti-theft device? That's it. I'm done with these jeans. I tuck them between the two shirts so as to hide the size and sheer width of the waistband from pretty, wide-eyed salesgirl and get the heck out of Dodge. By the way, she dug the pants out of their shirt sandwich and eyeballed the size. I saw her as I was leaving.

So, on to the shoe department. The clock is ticking on my childless shopping trip. I'm feeling fat and hideous and the mirrors in the shoe department are close to the ground. Gotta love that. I try to steer clear of cute and head straight to functional. Naturalizer. I think my Grandma has a pair of those. I make my way to the athletic shoes. The prices make me cringe, but I try not to look at them and just find something that feels good. Sketchers makes a tennis shoe that looks like a mule. (that's a type of shoe with an open heel, not a literal mule, as in donkey) I like it. It even has some pink accents, which makes me like it more. I try it on and check it out in the shoe mirror. Way cute. But I feel like I'm letting FlyLady down somehow, because I wouldn't actually have to lace these up. Moving on. Easy Spirit. I'm pretty sure I've seen ads for these with a 60-ish lady walking on clouds. And I realize why I am struggling with the whole cute vs. comfort issue. I don't want to wear shoes that are comfortable because that makes me old. There. I said it. So, what am I going to do about it? I try on the Easy Spirit shoe. Oooohhh. That's nice. I take a few steps. Yeah, it feels gooooooooood. I guess there is something to be said for comfortable shoes. In a gesture that says, "Yes, I like Easy Spirit shoes. Yes, I have a saggy tummy. Yes, I embrace my mom-ness." I pick up the shoe box and start for the cash register. When I get in the car, I immediately put on my shoes, ready for my feet to feel good and like me again. And I have worn them all day.