Tuesday, October 7, 2008


I like shoes. I would say there was a day that I loved them, but for where I am now in my life, I just like ‘em. My mind is often preoccupied with other things, shoving shoes from the Pedestal of Preoccupation. My loves and likes are fluid notions.

However, there sometimes comes a shoe that reminds me that of course the best things in life are, in fact, things.

I have one such pair. Before I got them, I wanted them desperately. I envisioned the silhouette of the shoe before I ever saw a photo or came across it in person. Then it happened. We met. Exactly as I’d dreamed of them. One of those meant to be things.

I’ve had the shoes for about three and a half splendid years.

And I have worn them three, maybe four times.

For the hurt they cause is hospital worthy.

Last week, that pair of shoes winked at me as I was getting dressed for work, and as I believe a mother who forgets (or blocks out) the pain of childbirth to go ahead and have another kid does, I overlooked past pain and slid my tootsies into those Heartbreakers.

Around one o’clock I was hyperventilating in excruciating pain.

Oh sure, there are plenty of pairs that induce pain. We put up with it anyhow, don’t we, ladies? Suck it up. Beauty hurts, Mom used to say as she was dragging a brush through my hair, slicking it into one of the signature Peterson Ponytails. So because we're women, some days we come home, kick off our pumps and take a load off with a sigh of relief.

These shoes are different. A couple hours of walking, standing, sitting in them induces the need for morphine. And I never seem to have any handy. So when I wore them last week and experienced that familiar throbbing, I promised myself that as soon as I could get home and after I’d put band-aids on my four blisters I would throw these shoes away. Toss ‘em. Not put them in the DI bag, no, I think Deseret Industries frowns on people who donate weapons and tools of torture. Just throw them in the trash. Perhaps severing the leather straps first so that no one gets hurt.

Problem is, this isn’t the first time I’ve promised myself I’d throw these things away.

It’s the third. Or fourth.

And I still haven’t.

For they do wonders for this one pair of slacks I have.

So perhaps I’ll wear them tomorrow.


Sue said...

So where's a picture?

Just Sue said...

I wanna see these shoes! Not wear 'em,just see 'em.

Lindsay said...

me too!

cat+tadd=sam said...

Moist pilaf on my slacks.