…but I would have preferred to keep my old pair, because my new shoes are far too small.
I hate shoe shopping. I end up going through the whole store: this pair isn’t in my size, this pair feels weird, this pair has too high a heel, this pair is the wrong shade of brown…and so on. Maybe this is why I wear my shoes until they wear out.
My favorite pair of boots, ones that fit perfectly and went with everything, recently kicked the bucket like only shoes can. One shoe was fine, but the other fell apart and refused to be put back together. I tried boot glue, krazy glue, even sewing with a needle and thread. Nope. The sole of the shoe hung off like a slacking jaw. Then the zipper broke, and I decided that was it for that.
My second favorite pair of boots died the same week, with one too many holes. No longer waterproof, I decided it was time when sidewalk dirt began to seep in through the holes.
Now, I could handle the boot scenario fine—it’s spring, soon boots will be too hot anyway—if my summer shoes weren’t ready to go as well. I’ve already sewed one pair of canvas shoes back together, and another pair is beginning to get a hole as well. What gives?!
So, new shoes. I have no problem finding cute high heels, but thing is I never get to wear them and, honestly, the pain isn’t worth it. But I did find one pair that looked pretty cute and very versatile. They fit, they didn’t fall off, and they were just a little tight. I’d have to wear them in, but I couldn’t leave the store without buying them. After all, it was so rare that a shoe would fit all my criteria.
And so I sit at the office, alternating between flexing my feet in all crazy ways to break these suckers in to taking them off entirely to let the blood flow back to my toes. It’s okay though. I’ve had much worse.
There was the time I was late to a job interview and had to run in new heels that were already giving me blisters. The interviewer then decided to give me a tour of the (huge) building, during which I tried my darndest not to limp. I would have walked home barefoot, but I had to take the subway, and…ew. So I made the blisters even worse by wearing them all the way home.
Then there were the few years of pointe ballet I took in middle school. The shoes were made of solid wood and nails and who knows what else, and one had to balance on those torture contraptions with weightless arms and a graceful smile.
There were the few weeks when I started working at Chipotle over a year ago, before my work shoes came in. I had to run around the kitchen in Crocs three sizes too big for me because they wouldn’t let me wear non-company mandated sneakers.
Shoes. How could something so simple have so many problems? I suppose it’s a lesson in taking things for granted. I never appreciated my good shoes, or even gave them a second thought, until they broke on me.
As my internship winds to a close and I prepare to train my replacement, I wonder if she will fit the Globe like a new pair of shoes. I wonder how I will fit my new job. There will surely be a need to break in a bit, to get used to routine, but after awhile there won’t be any more blisters and it will all be second nature. Or, alternately, it may just be a bad fit. No matter what though, we won’t find out until we try them out for a few days.