One day, the small-footed woman met a very nice, prince-of-a-salesman. Looking obviously discouraged, she asked him "do you carry any shoe in a size 5?" The princely salesman smiled and replied, "You are a Cinderella - yes we do have a few pair in your size". The very small-footed woman was overcome with joy so she purchased every size 5 shoe in the store. It's no wonder she felt the need to buy every pair she could find, after all, she may never find another pair in all the land. Out of perceived necessity, a shoe shopaholic was born.
Before children, I wore a size 5 shoe. Having such small feet usually led to shoe shopping dread and frustration. Asking for a size 5 in a shoe store was almost as ridiculous as asking if they carried any toaster ovens. In America, the average woman's shoe size is an 8. Most store clerks admit that the smallest size they carry is a 6 - and not too many of this size either, I might add. So what's a Cinderella to do but to purchase every pair of shoes she can find in her size that aren't too uncomfortable or hideous.
What I later learned was that during pregnancy, a woman's feet can grow up to a full size (they don't actually grow, they flatten out a bit). After 2 pregnancies and the birth of 2 beautiful sons, my feet flattened into an obtainable size 6! My feet are still small and I'm still considered a Cinderella, however, now shoe shopping is an enjoyable adventure which doesn't result in complete frustration. Now that I can more easily find shoes I have admittedly become a shoe shopaholic (I prefer to call myself a shoe 'collector').
My New Year's resolution for 2011 was to be more organized so I went through and organized my shoe 'collection'. What I discovered was that I had more shoes than I realized, many of which I hadn't worn in years. So, I made a new resolution - I resolved not to buy any new shoes in 2011 (pssssst - since I'm not likely to realize this goal I 'm back to my original resolution).
I also decided to part with shoes I hadn't worn in more than 3 years (approximately 20 pair). I put them in a box and put the box in the garage for my husband to take to the Good Will. Sadly, that box is still sitting in the garage (I think my husband is testing me). Yes, I do eye the sandals sitting at the top of the box and yes, I do contemplate pulling them back out of the box, but I stop myself. I remind myself that they weren't very comfortable and I haven't worn them in a few years so I most likely won't ever wear them again. Then, I rationalize that I may find a pair I like even more and once again, all is well in my shoe-addicted mind.
Even though I no longer feel the need to purchase every shoe I find in my size, I still want to. Maybe it's because I spent too many years unable to find shoes. Maybe it's simply because I love 'collecting' shoes. Maybe it's a little of both. Sure, there are more expensive things I could collect - like diamonds, cars or time-shares in the Caribbean, but that's what shopaholics do - we rationalize. Thankfully, I'm married to a prince-of-a-guy who puts up with my desire (I mean my need) for more shoes. However, I have to be willing to take the tongue-in-cheek flack he'll lovingly dish out as I head towards the shoe department while we're out shopping - but those pewter, patent leather, slingback, peep toe pumps are worth it! I NEED THEM. They match my car.
I suppose somewhere, out there, there are support groups for those addicted to shoe shopping. If there are nightly meetings, I'm sure I'm busy that night. But, if any of my 'sole sisters' want to go out on a shoe shopping safari, I'll find a way to clear my calendar.
