You ever go to the store to buy a pair of shoes to match a specific outfit? I usually don’t. I purposely buy outfits that coordinate with the one pair of black shoes, one pair of brown shoes, or one pair of running shoes in my closet. I know. So utterly un-feminine of me. Because of this, I surprised myself when I bought a navy Liz Claiborne skirt with white polka dots for $6.00 at a consignment store while I was home. It’s probably because I was so excited that the skirt fit and was in what I have currently deemed an acceptable, regular person size. But back to the shoes…

Needless to say, wearing skirts is a problem with my limited shoe resources. Those loafers just don’t look cute with an above-the-knee skirt. In fact, they’re barely passable when covered up with long pants. This posed a problem for my new navy skirt, and I set out for Target yesterday to find the right pair of navy shoes. I was determined to wear this skirt today, and wear it I did. Unfortunately, my shoes wore me.

I realized when I was running into school this morning (the commute took me just over an hour, and I was super late). I could feel the skin on my ankles protesting, but I didn’t have time to pay attention. By the time I had walked the nine miles to my classroom (OK, maybe it’s only a quarter of a mile), my feet were in a full-blown fight with the rest of my body. I sit here typing with three exposed blisters, areas rubbed raw, and throbbing feet. And the shoes? They’re in the back seat of my car. I went barefoot the rest of the day after work.

I’m sure you are asking yourself why in the world I bought shoes that were too small. Obviously because I am not as smart as most people. Yes, I did try on the shoes. And they seemed to fit well. However, I did not walk around in them nearly enough. And I was late getting Robbie from daycare. And I am still in denial that my feet are half a size larger than they were before Robbie was born.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this was the first time I had been forced to learn this lesson. Unfortunately, my sister kindly picked up a pair of shoes for me last fall for Robbie’s Christening. I told her my old shoe size and suffered through wearing the shoes. I still try them on every now and then, hoping that they may fit. They don’t. Those shoes? Currently in the corner of my bedroom, mocking me. And my big post-natal feet.


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