White Strappy Sandals

A pair of white strappy sandals made the first day of junior high one of those moments you never forget. You know one of those moments where you want to go home and crawl in bed and never get up. It just stays with you in the very back of your mind and you always wonder what if.

Since I was going to junior high, my parents wanted to help me start the school year right. They wanted me to have some “stylish” outfits. In those days, hot pants, short skirts and mini dresses were considered the “in” clothes. Of course at my school the “in” kids wore Levi’s pulled down low, hang ten T shirts or jeans and gauze shirts. My parents did not allow me to wear jeans to school, matter of fact I didn’t own my first pair of blue jeans until college.

So I headed off to the first day of junior high in my tasteful little hot pants outfit with some very shiny white strappy sandals with a chunky 3 inch heel. Keep in mind I am still a little chunky, not really fat but not skinny either, just plump. All day long I held my head up very proud, clopped around school in my fashionable outfit with my chunky heeled white sandals.

On the inside I was dying, I just wanted to be one of those kids in cool color Levi cords, a gauze oversized shirt and maybe some cute flat sandals. This is one of those reoccurring patterns. On the surface I am considered a confident outgoing strong person, on the inside I am insecure and just wanting to belong.

Anyway, I had made it through the day; I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was riding the bus home, as in everyone’s past; there is one of those groups of girl’s you just hated. They were the bully’s, the mean girls as much as you hated them, you really wanted to belong, be one of the “in” girls. So as the bus pulls up to my stop and I am getting off the bus, holding my head up high, as I pass “the girls” and someone says something, I smile and respond. I am so excited; maybe just maybe they want to be friends with me. Maybe mom was right, it was all about being stylish! As I step down the steps, I lose my footing, the chunky heel on my white sandals snaps off, I fall off the bus, on to the ground, my heel bounces down on me. As I quickly stand up I can see my knees are scratched and bleeding. My new outfit is covered in dirt and gravel. As kids do, they start to laugh, the bus driver jumps to help and I do what I always do, stand up quickly, try to make a joke, brush myself off and say I am okay.

I walk away from the bus trying very hard not to cry or seem hurt. The bus pulls away and I slowly limp home in tears, completely crushed and my brand new strappy sandals are broken. I remember in that moment thinking I don’t want to see anyone again, I wanted to hide. Like all of these moments in our lives, somehow we pick our self up and move on. After all tomorrow is another day!

When I wonder what if….I hadn’t fallen off the bus, would things be any different? Then I wonder if this was one of those defining moments? Or…was it a “divine” intervention? Was this one of those moments that is given to us by a higher power to remind us of who we are, keep us humble providing us a life lesson.

Lessons learned. Nothing is so bad you can’t get up and face your fears. Don’t laugh at someone falling, or for that matter don’t make fun of anyone’s misfortune, as it could be you. And the last lesson no more white strappy 3 inch heel sandals.

Saddle Shoes

As a young kid every year I was “blessed” with a new pair of saddle shoes. This tradition continued throughout my early years in elementary school. There were two major issues with saddle shoes.

The first issue, I did not go to elementary school in the 50’s, it was the mid to late 60’s. I really can’t remember what shoes other kids wore I just remember how different mine were. The other big issue was with big wide feet when you wear saddle shoes you truly look like you wearing black and white gun boats. No wonder I was always tripping over my own two feet!

I am pretty sure I had other shoes, maybe some keds tennis shoes, I just can’t remember them. I do remember being barefoot a lot; I had no idea going barefoot all the time would make my feet get wider!

As a kid shoe shopping was awful. I can remember every fall my dad (step dad, mom had remarried) taking me to Hofimers to buy shoes. It was always such a production, I would place my foot in that silver thing that measures your feet, the clerk would just look….it was like hmmm….wow you have a wide foot!

I don’t think they made a lot of wide shoes in those days. So my feet would be squeezed into whatever would stretch…saddle shoes it was! So picture this…a short chubby kid, with glasses and braces wearing shiny black and white gun boats!
Don’t get me wrong, I was very proud of my new shoes. My parents had me convinced they were “cool” shoes. Mom would show me all kinds of girls wearing saddle shoes….you know cheerleaders, Gidget and the kids from Father Knows Best.

Every year I would proudly go off to school with my new shoes, convinced I knew what was stylish. On the outside I held my head high; on the inside I just wanted to be that “cool” skinny blonde girl who wore jeans and tiny nondescript shoes. I just knew with those saddle shoes one day I would be a cheerleader!

What made it worse was my mom had perfect small narrow feet, so she always had the pretty “princess” shoes; I wanted those shoes so bad. I couldn’t even play dress up with moms shoes…my toes wouldn’t go into the shoe.

Lessons learned. Reflecting back I realize my parents weren’t trying to torture me; they were trying to keep shoes on my feet. When you hold your head high and act as if you are okay, you will survive. And keep your little kids from going barefoot, it will make their feet spread; maybe there is something to the old Japanese custom of binding feet. The most important lesson was saddle shoes did not make you a cheerleader later in life!

Ballet Shoes

As a little girl, I dreamed of being a ballerina or a princess, you see I saw them both as the same thing…small tiny beautiful girls in soft frilly dresses. That’s what I wanted to be, a fragile, delicate, soft, small beautiful little girl waiting for someone to sweep in and take care of me. As you know princesses and ballerina’s always have a prince charming that slays the dragons and protects them from all the evil. I wanted the fairy tale! But didn’t we all.

Instead I was the plump little girl with “a pretty face” who was a klutz. On the outside I seemed confident, strong and independent but on the inside I was shy, unsure and dying for someone to tell me I could do it. I was always afraid of failing. It’s funny how these things form as a child and stay with you forever.
Reflecting back as an adult, I think my desire to be rescued comes from the loss of my father at an early age. You see at 5 my parents divorced. In today’s world that doesn’t seem to be such a big thing, but in the 60’s it was different. I think I spent most of my life waiting for Daddy to come home. I wanted a normal family life. You know the Leave it to Beaver family, a mom, dad, brother or sister and the all elusive house with the white picket fence.

I have always been drawn to flat ballet inspired shoes. When I was in my twenties I can remember having the most amazing black suede flats; on the rounded toe area was a large flat black suede flower. I remember wearing those shoes with jeans, a crisp white t-shirt and a black blazer. That was one of those “stylish” outfits that “felt good”.

As I approach 50 and look for shoes, I am drawn to the pretty new ballet inspired shoes, I hold back. For some reason these pretty little shoes don’t go well with swollen ankles.

Lessons learned. You create your own fairy tale, that’s what makes the story so special. You cannot wait for someone else to save you, you have to save yourself. You are responsible for your own failures and successes. And last but not least who can really say what’s normal and what’s not.