They come in a zillion styles, colours and sizes and have females of all ages drooling over them as they would over a picture of current hottie Chris Hemsworth. More than that, I hear you?! Well yes, perhaps. In fact, I think I must be one of the only women in the world who really despises them. To be fair, however, they did hate me first! They seem to loathe me with a passion, so I can’t help retaliating when in all my 31 years, they’ve done nothing but pose a nuisance and a literal pain to me.
My rant comes after I once again failed to find a pair of shoes that fit me well on a dreaded trip to a shoe shop. I frantically searched all over the place trying to eye any pair that might prove suspiciously tolerable to my forever aching feet. Having unsuccessfully tried on more types and sizes than I care to remember, the salesgirl very kindly pointed out that I probably need shoes in half sizes. I retorted, rather rudely I’m afraid, that many shops seem happy to point that out to me without actually having models in half sizes for me to try!
You see, shoes put me in a foul mood. It’s like tiredness or sinus problems – they rub me up the wrong way! Buying shoes is, for me, worse than a kid’s dilemma of which Kinder Surprise egg to grab from the carton. Remember how we used to put it to our ear and shake it gently, trying to guess from the sound whether it contained one solid toy piece and therefore one of the collectables? That used to be one chance in five. Well, my chances of getting a pair of shoes that won’t start hurting me once I’m beyond the shop’s threshold is even less than the 20% chance promised by Kinder in our childhood. Not to mention the fact that even a rare pair of comfortable shoes is, in my experience, likely to start chafing my skin the second it spots a new shoebox in my hands!
What about when it comes to formal dos such as weddings? Many people say that elegant heels kill them on these occasions (figuratively of course!), but have come to find that keeping a pair of ballerinas that match the dress on hand do nicely for a quick swap once their feet start aching. Why don’t I try that, you say? Well, because by the time a pair of ballerinas, cute though they may be, stop hurting me from being too new, I would have worn them to the point where they’re only good for a quick trip to the grocery store and in no condition to save me at a wedding. So you see, dear sis, this is why I preferred to sit down and refused to budge at your reception.
And with this grumble, I’m off to find an outfit that matches the only pair of shoes that have just promised not to hurt me today!