Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Shoe Lover

I have never met a shoe that I did not like. However, I have found shoes that do not like me. A couple months ago, I fell in love with a pair of black ankle boots. They were modern with flair of old fashion buttons. It was shoe love at first trying on. When I put them on, I felt city smart and gorgeous. Not only were they comfortable, they alluringly whispered class and sophistication. In my head, I saw myself in many outfits and places in these boots. My mom saw the love in my eyes and recalled the coming of the holidays and my birthday. My mother bought the boots.

For weeks of months, I thought of these dreamy shoes. I knew that when I would wear them I would be able to walk on water or at least snow. Finally, the shoes were given to me. When I brought them home, my roommates were as excited as me. They cooed over them and I grinned from ear to ear.

To me, these cute boots were exactly perfect for winter wear. The salt wouldn’t ruin them immediately like velvet shoes and my feet wouldn’t be so exposed to the snow. Although they have heels, they are particularly easy in which to walk. My first wearing of these lovely boots went smoothly. I knew that I had a nice pair of shoes going on. Thankfully, I was not particularly vain about these boots and I walked carefully. Never did I make eye contact with any attractive young man.

My second outing in these boots, I was much more confident in my looks and walking. I had a couple mishaps, but no noticeable close calls. My third outing was not so lucky. After attending a dance performance in sweet boots and dark lipstick, my friends and I returned to a small deli. As I confidently clicked across the floor feeling like a fox, my foot hit a wet patch as I made eye contact with a guy. My ankle turned and I scrambled to catch my balance.

To my chagrin, the guy told me to be more careful.

Laughing with embarrassment, I said, “Oh, you saw that?” I kept laughing and spun away trying to rejoin my friends.

The guy responded, “I didn’t see it if you don’t want me to.”

I just laughed and exited into the bathroom. I was sufficiently embarrassed.

More recently, my roommate and I went to a local mini grocery store. Clad in my delectable boots, I felt posh and sophisticated. Somewhere in the frozen dinner aisle, a male worker restocked the freezers. As I walked, I made eye contact with the man and we exchanged pleasant greetings. Just as we finished the greetings, my ankle twisted. Barely did I keep myself from tumbling to the guy’s feet. Finally, I steadied myself. With embarrassed laughter, I croaked out that I was fine and stumbled to my roommate. My ankle was quite sprained, but I managed to walk on it.

My ankle boots have it in for me. If I as much as look at a man, I end up stumbling. I suppose that I am much more susceptible to pride or to attractive men than I thought. My shoes have a mantra of attractive men cometh before fall. My lovely little boots want to keep me humble. Obviously, I have both a pride and vanity issue or maybe a shoe problem.

I’ve found my match in shoes.