Monday, March 4, 2013

A Tale of Two Shoes (or Shoes As Metaphor)

  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…(OK, not really. It was more of a laid-back, Sunday afternoon. But the other thing sounded classier.).

STOP MOCKING ME!

  I had awoken with every intention of writing. Then? I saw “The Shoes.” *insert creepy mystery music here* They were sitting on top of my box of artistic-destruction supplies mocking me! (And yes, shoes CAN mock. Just ask any woman with a serious shoe addiction and limited funds.)

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  Here’s the thing, I am not a woman who is overly concerned with her footwear since I prefer barefoot. I figure if I was meant to spend my life with my feet sequestered inside canvas and leather solitary confinement, then I wouldn’t have been born with ¼ inch thick leather on the soles of said feet. But, since “shirt and shoes required” seems to be the norm around these parts, I am forced to own at least one pair.
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Hey, at least they don't smell
as bad as they look!

  And the time had come for a new set, since the Skull-shoes are on their last leg. (Holy crap! Shoes…on their last leg…I didn’t even do that one purpose.) So Friday hubby drug me to the shoe department and I was “ordered” to make my selection.

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  That would be where the pouting and profuse use of foul language began.
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  Since whatever-we’re-calling-it-this-month (still holding at Unspecified Mixed Connective Tissue Disease) has decided to turn random leg muscles into week-old Jell-O, I have a specific list of requirements for my mandatory footgear to insure I don‘t trip or end up face-down, kissing the pavement anymore than I already do.
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  Potential shoes must:
#1- be light weight to avoid extra muscle fatigue
#2- NO heel whatsoever
#3- must fit snugly and NOT flop around
#4- must be able to wear with warm socks to avoid issues with Ra-Na’s
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  This list pretty much rules out any and all shoes that could be remotely called attractive. So last year I came up with a plan. If desirable shoes would not find me, I’d make the darn things! (OK, I wouldn’t make the SHOES, I’d just make them desirable.)
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  Since last year I went with iron-on patches that were actually super-glued on (have you ever tried to iron a shoe? Yeah, it doesn’t work so well. Rubber things melt when accidentally touched with a hot iron. Who knew?) this year I decided to get all brave and dig out the acrylic paints.
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  So, I present to you the World’s first ever Super Slug shoes!

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  “Why the holy-heck are you telling us about your goofy shoes,” you ask? Because I can! .
  OK, not really (much). It’s because simple things we all take for granted can become a serious pain in the arse when you have glitches. And it can get down-right depressing at times to want something as run-of-the-mill as a new pair of shoes only to be faced with these stupid limitations.
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  So get creative. Think out-side of the box. Go for broke and find a way to OWN the limitations!
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  “But finger paints were my limits,” you say. .
Much snazzier when they were new...
  Cool! Finger paint the friggin’ shiz-nit outta the things! Glue crap all over them. Use sharpies to personalize the darn things. (Trust me, I detailed the Skull-shoes with Sharpies last year and it stood the test of time.) (And mud.)

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  As much as it pains me to say I have limits (that I SO wish I didn’t have!), I’ve decided that limits are only as limiting as I allow them to be.
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  I may never wear another pair of thick-heeled, zip-up, faux biker boots again, *deep sigh* but I CAN wear the coolest, most unique pair of cheap, men’s canvas sneakers my twisted brain can come up with.
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  How do you guys deal with limitations? (Even it the only limitation is the limit on your MasterCard.)

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