Monday, February 18, 2013
One day I came home from a shopping expedition with a fabulous pair of olive green high-top canvas shoes. I was so excited about my purchase. It was then that my mom accused me of buying ugly shoes because I felt sorry for them. That implied there was a history of this suspect behavior. I was crushed, and very defensive of my new shoes. Ok, maybe they were sort of ugly, but I was hoping I was on the cutting edge of cool. The first pair of ugly shoes came into my life when I was in first grade. My mom picked them out and they were my first pair of official school shoes. They were black leather-like slip-ons. What made these shoes interesting was a tongue that was on top of the shoe, instead of hidden. This tongue had a hinge. You would slip your foot into the shoe, and press the tongue down to close it. I hated those school shoes. I detested them. In later years, though, I would think of those ugly shoes and sort of yearn for them. When I was about ten, I chose red Keds when replacing my traditional blue ones. Shortly after, I regretted my decision and plotted to speed up their demise. One morning, I rode my bike to the top of our street, then coasted back down while dragging the toes of my shoes on the pavement. In record time, the red shoes were toast. My mom made a comment about how fast my shoes had worn out, and took me to the store to replace them. I had a brain fart, or maybe I was being choked by guilt. Whatever the reason, I picked out red Keds again. I never confessed what I had done (until now), and let those shoes live out their natural life. Next time around, it was blue Keds and I never looked back. Still feel guilty, though. Sorry mom!