RIDICULOUS SHOES

And more lessons learned as a fifty-something...

The first time I wore them, I was standing at the top of an elegant sweeping staircase with the confidence of Rose in the movie Titanic.

And as I looked down into the ballroom, I could see everyone watching me glide down the stairs. I was young; I thought the gawkers were admiring my shimmering golden gown and perfectly coiffed hair. What I know now is that they were watching to see if I would fall.

You see, the pair of shoes I had just purchased and was wearing for the first time that day were champagne-colored four-inch stiletto platform heels! Back then, I thought the world revolved around me, and by extension, everyone else’s world should revolve around me as well. Of course, I was convinced that I was the belle of the ball.

As a parent of children who are twenty- and thirty-somethings, I recognize when a lack of life experience and the confidence that it provides encourages self-centeredness. All the forty- and fifty-somethings who were watching me descend the staircase knew what I didn’t know that day … My feet would be killing me at the end of the night, and I would be lucky if I didn’t catch a heel on the carpet and fall flat on my face.

Today, I was cleaning out my closet in preparation to have the floors re-done in our master bedroom and bath and piling my shoes into cardboard boxes. I should have been excited. I love home improvement projects, and for the first time ever I was hiring someone to do the heavy lifting.

And yet, the feeling was a little unsettling as I gazed upon that row of shoes. On the one hand, it was fun to remember the events when I wore each pair of shoes. The red, open-toe strappy sandals with the fringe that I wore to the most fun Cinco de Mayo party. The party was decorated with paper mâché piñatas that were auctioned off as door prizes. We continued the party when we got home and discovered that ours had been filled with tequila-flavored candies.

.

Or the light purple peek-a-boo wedges with blue polka dots and long straps that tied around my ankles. I wore those shoes to another fundraising event. I must have won the statue of Einstein. Was it Einstein? Why would I bid on something like that? Anyway, I remember carrying the heavy stone statue up to the checkout and saying to a distinguished-looking gentleman as I walked past, “Have bust, will travel.” Shoes like that give you the confidence to say those things!

And as I piled my shoes and my memories into a cardboard box, I had the strange feeling that another part of my life was ending. It was the same feeling I had when I cleaned out the kids’ closets. It was as hard to box up my shoes as it was to box up their childhood trophies and school essays. Should I hang on to these shoes even though I knew it was likely that I would never wear them again? Now that I’m a part of the fifty-something group, I try to avoid things like sore feet and falling flat on my face.

Leave it to my husband to pull me out of my funk. As I sat reminiscing on the floor of the closet and hovering over my box of shoes, he reached in and pulled out a pair of New Balance cross trainers and said, “These are your sexiest shoes. Get rid of those ridiculous shoes”.