Although you wouldn't know it from the past few months, I am not generally an acquisitive sort of a person. I don't like shopping for clothes or shoes or gimcracks and when I am forced to do so I am a big fan of places like TJ Maxx and Target. Unless it is a wedge of cheese or a bottle of wine I hate spending more than $10 on anything. OK, the new necklace clearly does not count as it is... you know, forever, and how else can two months salary last forever and why shouldn't he show me he would marry me all over again and I was already using my right hand as my voice and if you have yet to recognize the fact that I am repeating the diamond industry's brilliant marketing campaigns (truly) this is going nowhere. Anyway, I like it.
Two days ago I bought a shirt for $2.98 that looked just fine after I spent a few hours with cuticle scissors and a needle removing the sequins and beading. It was almost my last craft project, ever, as I held the needle in my mouth as I was snipping and inadvertently stabbed myself right in the center of a canker sore I had lurking on my tongue. The pain combination was so potent I practically passed out and it was only Steve's pleading that prevented me from ending it all right then. That and the fact that I was almost done de-uglifying the shirt and I certainly did not want to be buried in anything half-covered in sequins. Yuck.
I am trying to build up to the fact that although I am about to write copiously about shoe shopping, this in no way defines me.
I keep mentioning my wide feet, partly because I am bewildered by them and partly because I find them sort of funny. How did this happen? I am a little person. Dainty, even. And yet I have hands and feet like shovels. Why? I spent my girlhood buying shoes like other people. I don't recall my mother turning away with a tissue while the shoe salesman gravely slid a sizing device ever wider. I used to be normal, I swear it. I spent high school and college in a pair of Tretorns that I would only replace when they literally fell apart. After college I started buying shoes at Payless and I do remember being pleased that they carried a lot of wide sizes because every now and then I would need to go a bit wider in the toe. The good thing about Payless is that their shoes are like $0.45 a pair. The bad thing is that they blow up after you wear them for six weeks.
After I had Patrick it became apparent that I could no longer just walk into a shoe store, even Payless, and ask if they had these in black. I could barely cram my toes through the opening before the shoe was forced to just dangle there, limply. I am the other step-sister. The W-i-d-e footed one.
Enter Zappos. I love Zappos. They are an online shoe store and they epitomize everything an Internet retailer should be. Huge selection. Low prices. Phenomenal search engine. Free shipping and free return shipping. AND for the past few orders I placed they shipped the shoes overnight. For free. Just because. Sigh. I big heart Zappos.
Steve needed some new running shoes this week so I ordered them for him and got a couple of things for myself too. They arrived yesterday and despite the fact that I have finally resigned myself to being an E (a wide wide, or possibly a wide wide wide) two of the three pairs felt like my bones were being broken in them. Gr-e-e-at. I have gone from freakishly wide to... god only knows. Elephantine. I've graduated from what Steve obnoxiously calls my shuu-muus to donning tied burlap sacks like the Clydesdales wear.
Utterly despondent, I forced myself to go to an actual shoe store yesterday afternoon. I selected an establishment that seems to cater to the disabled and the elderly. We got along fine. After trying to cram my foot into a little number in size 6.5 ww, the saleslady suggested we measure my feet to figure out what we are dealing with. It turns out I am actually a 7.5w, still wide of course but closer to average. Did you know that your feet can keep growing as an adult? Doesn't that seem like a complete waste of bodily resources? I hate to think that all of the calcium I consumed in an effort to avoid osteoporosis was misallocated to support a foot-growth initiative that no one wanted. I feel like a Tyco stockholder.
So this is my two-part public service announcement: if you wear shoes, try Zappos; and if you are having trouble wearing shoes get your feet measured.
That is all.