Despite what you may have heard, I love shoes. There was a time way back in the day when I wore stylish heels, strappy sandals and cool Espadrilles.
|These aren’t so bad, are they? My chiropractor thinks they’re hot.|
Then I left my job and stayed home to care for our daughter. Heels gave way to flip flops and Birkenstoks. Gotta love a birk…the way they mold to my feet, even with socks (only around the house, I swear) they’re like a second, tougher, more hippy lovin’ skin. I love them to my very sole/soul.
And listen here shoe divas with your stilettos and killer calves, it’s sad that you will never know the pedial joy of Croc flip flops.
I also love my Uggs. Both pairs. I give my Uggs huggs whenever I’m feeling blue.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for comfort. Though I admit after witnessing ladies who rock their hot heels, I wonder if I should give more consideration to the image my shoes project? I’m just not convinced that foot fashion is worth the price of swollen, blistered, achy feet.
While doing some serious sole searching (Literally. I can’t find my other Ugg slipper anywhere) this story came back to me…
Filet of Sole With A Side Of Tongue
A few years ago I was working as an elementary teacher at a school in West Toronto. My favourite part of the day, other than being with the children of course—watching them blossom and guiding their learning and blah, blah, blah—was lunch. Not just the meal, though my daily chocolate pudding cup eaten with a cookie spoon was a highlight (you should try it. A shortbread cookie makes one tasty spoon). I relished the time spent with my colleagues. Talking, laughing, eating. Choking. (Laughing and eating…not a good combination. A story for another time. By the way, the Heimlich really DOES work).
Anyway, I was on a bit of a health kick that year. I have no idea why and what happened since. No health kicks to be seen around these parts for ages! Some of the staff members were ordering pizza for lunch. When asked to join, I declined since I was bringing a HEALTHY homemade lunch. I may have even wagged a finger and made a tsk tsk sound. I can be a real smug son of a bitch.
Each morning I arrived at work (late) and stowed my lunch which I carried in a plastic shopping bag, (classy) in the staffroom fridge. When I returned at lunchtime, the pizza had been delivered and my teacher friends were scarfing it down like a pack of wolves. Teachers eat really fast by the way. Another choking hazard. I sauntered over to the fridge and pulled out my shopping bag lunch and took my place at the table. I boldly pronounced that I would be partaking in MY lunch. Not their greasy, artery clogging meal.
I sat down and reached in to my bag and pulled out…a pair of winter boots. COLD winter boots. They’d been in the freaking fridge all morning! Oh god. I had grabbed the wrong bag in my race to get out the door that morning. These were my Recess Duty boots, not my healthy, home-cooked and greatly bragged about lunch.
The teasing started right that moment and has continued to this day. Every shoe/boot pun going has been flung my way. Gems about Lisa’s lunch being so tough, it’s like leather. Oh wait, it was leather! Hardy-har-har.
Or, “Hey Lisa, who sings that song, ‘These boots are made for eating?’ Hilarious.
But enough about them and their relentless taunting. This is about me. And my love of shoes.
I love them so much, I nearly ate some.