I despise shopping. I
am certain I've mentioned that in this blog at least once, maybe eighty times, before. Today's adventure to find a few pairs of
pants for work starts as a great idea and turns into a multi-hour fiasco. After lugging about fifty pairs into the
dressing rooms (two different dressing rooms visited five separate times), I
come home with a few new outfits… pants, shirts, and sweaters.
Of course, this wonderful development, coupled with my other
semi-successful shopping trip two weeks ago, means that I now have to finally
clean out the clothes I no longer wear but keep around "just in case"
-- Just in case I ever lose weight, just in case the fashions ever come back
into style, just in case my back suddenly shrinks and the shirts are no longer
"too short," just in case I ever mend loose seams or sew loose
buttons.
There's one aspect of shopping, though, where I have been
experiencing reasonable success: shoe shopping.
This has not always been the case for me as I have had
numerous bizarre foot injuries and even had some extensive foot surgery to
rebuild one of my feet. But now … now I
can wear shoes again, and the influx of discount designer shoe stores has
opened up a whole new world to me … and to my feet.
I refuse to do any clothes shopping with friends
present. It's just too painful to endure
and probably terribly painful for them to watch. But shoe shopping? It's always open season for shoe shopping.
Don't get me wrong.
I'm not into that whole designer shoe thing. I have my fair share of party shoes, which
are completely impractical for work since I'm on my feet all day, but still I
hoard shoes that haven't yet left the boxes.
I also have shoes that I wear until they have to be pried off my feet. It's a decent balance.
After the initial shock of being able to actually wear fancy
shoes again, about a year post-surgery, I have settled into more practical shoe
purchases, but purchases they are, just the same. I suspect it is turning into a bit of an
addiction, and I have a friend who shares my addiction. Sometimes we even share a brain when we shop.
First of all, we both gravitate instantly to the clearance
racks. This means that we often purchase
the same styles, especially when it's seasonal shopping. By mid-summer, the sandals have worked their
way back to clearance, and my friend and I have often bought the same styles of
sandals but in different colors. Or
sometimes we say, "Let's look for flats," and we come home with
boots. Or we say, "Let's look at
the boots," and we come home with sneakers.
Today, though … today is when I realize just how far this
shoe shopping thing has progressed. My
friend and I wear different size shoes, so it's a true pity we cannot just
share shoes. Her feet are about two full
sizes smaller than mine, so we are never in the same aisles of shoe racks at
the same time unless we have to speak to one another. Today I can hear her calling to me from two
aisles away.
"Did you find anything?" she asks.
"Yup," I answer her, throwing my voice over the
shelves lined with shoes.
Of course I've found something. Don't be silly. I have discovered the coolest little pair of
boots, although I am sneaker and flats shopping. The boots are Rock and Candy By Zigi boots,
gray-green canvas with a medium heel and completely impractical for work. Naturally, I want them. I have them on my feet and am admiring them
in the mirror as I walk around the racks.
Suddenly my friend comes around the corner with an open box
in her arms. I look at what she is
holding and I start cracking up. She
doesn't understand why I am laughing until she finally realizes I am
redirecting her to look at my feet.
My enthusiastic friend is showing me the exact pair of boots
in her size that I already have on my feet in my own size.
In the end, my friend doesn't purchase the boots but I
do. We both come home with shoes. More shoes.
The best part about it is that the shoe purchase, at least from my
perspective, caps off an otherwise horrible day of shopping, a day where for
hours I am at the mercy of designers who don't know how to size clothing
properly. At least with shoes, I don't have to go through the horror of
constantly undressing, redressing, undressing, and redressing all over again.
Do I still despise shopping?
Absolutely. But the beauty of
shoe shopping is that even if I don't find anything, the only naked humiliation
belongs to my feet.
