Ill-Fitting Shoes

I’m a petite woman with large feet. Yes, it’s an odd combination. When I’m buying a new pair of shoes, here are some things I look for:

1)    Do they make me look good?

2)    Are they versatile? Can I wear them with multiple outfits?

3)    Are they reasonably priced?

I have been known to buy shoes that ‘sort of fit’ as long as they meet the above criteria. Okay, so I know this is not the wisest way to pick shoes. You’d think I would learn from the calluses and achy feet. I really like high heel shoes, because they make me feel taller than I really am. I’ve adapted to the pain, accepting it as part of life—as I try to be something I’m not. I have shoes that rub me the wrong way, trip me up, make me lose my balance, or have little support. I continue wearing these ill-fitting shoes, because I’ve already paid for them, they can’t be returned, and I don’t want to admit that I’ve made a mistake by buying them.

Here are a few tips I read about new shoes: Feet expand from morning to evening. When buying shoes in the earlier part of the day, you have to allow room for this expansion. For those of us who have one foot that is slightly larger than the other, we have to buy the shoe that fits the larger foot. Shoes that look good are seldom comfortable. High heels are harmful for your feet. It’s not a good idea to take new shoes on a trip.

Unfortunately, I disregard every one of these rules! I buy shoes that make me look better even if they make me feel crummy.

 

I’ve also been known to take on ill-fitting roles that cause me pain, rub me the wrong way, and make me lose balance. I take on these responsibilities—partly because it’s expected of me, and also because I think that I can make it fit somehow. Maybe, if I wear it in, it’ll stretch out and fit someday. Or, if it’s too big, I can use a band-aid or an insert that will fill in the gaps. The timing might not be right, or the task might be incompatible with my personality. Maybe, as life progressed, I have expanded and outgrown certain undertakings that fit in the past. Yet, I continue walking in ill-matched roles, because failing to do so would make me look bad. Once I’ve made an investment of time and energy, I’m reluctant to give up. I develop a callused, blistered attitude and resign myself to plodding—awkwardly, miserably--through life.