Oh how I hate new shoes...

Not all of my entries are going to be deep and meaningful . Tonight I want to talk about new shoes.

When I was a child... many eons ago, new shoes were a thing of joy. Little Mary Janes; tiny shiny symbols of, if not afluence, at least comfort. We used to go to the Buster Brown machine and stick our tiny feet in the little slots and MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, we could see the bones in our feet! The machinery that created these happy happy joy joy occasions fills me with dread today. I blame at LEAST my bone spurs on the radiation. and heaven knows what else (wait! did I NEVER HAVE CHILDREN?? OMG!).

Then came the shoes. The aforementioned Mary Janes were, of course, only for GOOD occasions (church, parties, dress up and holidays, when overindulgence of food might make a splatter or two, but it was easily cleanable). The Buster Browns were for school and any other occasion that did not require looking good. I don't remember liking the Buster Browns...

Through the years I have had various sorts of new shoes. When I was younger and fitter, I wore 4 1/2 inch black spiked heels. Frequently. I shake my head at the very thought. I DO remember liking those '"Bustem' Browns". When I lived in Hawaii, I owned one pair of flip flops. I removed them every time I set foot in someone's house (or my own). You always knew your own flip flops. as they held the imprint of your foot like an inexpensive pair of orthotics . I may have had a pair of 'sneakers', but I doubt it.

When I returned from Hawaii, I started a period of sensible shoes. Boring.. and then the bone spurs kicked in. (reference the above mentioned Buster Brown machine, although now that I think of it, the 4 inch heels MIGHT have contributed). From the advent of pain, I have worn those expensive 'tennis shoes'. (I got called on using that name for them by some smarmy little shoe salesman in a tiny midwest town. He must have had nothing else to do that year... )

Today I had to buy new shoes. I hate buying new shoes. They now cost more than my first automobile,once you figure in the orthotics, and by the time I realize that they really DON'T fit very well, they are too worn to return.

I want a pair of Mary Janes.

Shiny Tiny Gleaming Black Mary Janes...

sigh...