For those of you who can't read that one, it says:
"All the shoes in the size 12+ section look like they've been
taken from the lost and found at the senior's home."
True story.
There are a few things wrong with this saying and its applicability to me:
- I do not, nor have I ever needed to wear 12+
- I wear a women's 10-11
- This problem is not anywhere near as bad as it used to be
I remember going shoe shopping between the ages of 9 and 13. My expectations were like this:
Ooo! Fun! Pretty! Happy shoes that I would love to wear! How exciting!
After all, that's how the sections where my mom and sisters shopped looked. Surely I would be able to find some of the same, cute shoes, right?! We were in the same store!
When I would go to my section of the store, however, the sad reality was much more like this:
Hmmm... my only options are ages 50+. Yay.
I mean, what the heck?! Are the only people needing those sizes ninety-four with osteoporosis and rheumatoid arthritis?? And even if they were, what makes you think they want to wear shoes that look like that??? Comfy and cute, people. It's possible, I promise. But I digress...
As I've grown older, shoes my size have—happily—become more stylish. Now my section at the shoe store looks more like the first picture. (It is a little disappointing that most cute shoes are still discontinued at size 10, though. I, personally, think a size larger wouldn't make them any less adorable. Just sayin'.)
Okay, one more tale of shoe-related woes, and then I'm finished. I promise.
Back when I was 17, I competed in the regional Jr. Miss competition. At this point in time, cute shoes DID exist in my size. I didn't have too much to complain about in that area. However, that competition uncovered the shoe market's weak link, and it almost turned out to be disastrous.
Jr. Miss required all the contestants to participate in a Self Expression/Poise segment of the competition. For this, we had to wear a pretty, formal dress, walk around the stage, and answer an on-stage question. This all had to be done in formal shoes. You know the type. Heeled, strappy, usually sparkly and silver, the works.
At that point in time, and I think even now, the shoe market discouraged women of my stature to dress formally. No one sold any formal shoes in those sizes. Apparently, none of us were ever asked to prom. Or got married. I guess our feet were just not allowed to be as beautifully shod as our diminutively footed peers. Or maybe we all just liked to do everything barefoot. It happens.
Mom and I could not find formal shoes anywhere. We got so desperate, Mom shopped online cross-dresser stores while I was at school. YIKES! (Please remember to clear to cookie cache!) Needless to say, we didn't find what we were looking for there...
It wasn't until Mom discovered this part of Zappos.com that we could finally breathe freely.
That was close. And traumatic. And so happily resolved.
That was close. And traumatic. And so happily resolved.
Granted, you can't see my shoes, but this was at Jr. Miss. Which means I didn't get kicked out for lack of stated footwear. :)
