Goodbye, Good Girl Shoes
Yet one more addiction manifests itself.
We all define ourselves in different ways. Some people define themselves by their education. Others define themselves by their job. Some people define themselves by their religion. And some people define themselves by physical possessions like homes and cars and such. There are likely as many ways to define ones' self as there are people in this world. But for some people, self definition isn't as easy as identifying a single component. Those of us with complex self definitions often find ourselves shifting and restructuring our many definitions as we grow.
In no particular order, I've always defined myself by my job, my hobbies, and my shoes. These definitions have morphed and moved over the years, but I generally find myself labeling myself with these three definitions. Quite simply, I've always been the sensible shoe wearing engineer who has too many hobbies to count. (It's somewhat depressing to boil myself down to that one short sentence, but there it is. Alas.)
I've always been a sensible shoe kind of gal. Over the years, I've worn too many loafers and good girl pumps to count. It's been a pretty good deal all around. Sensible shoes rarely change style, so I don't have to shop for them often. And they're comfortable, long lasting, and (if purchased in black and brown) guaranteed to match most of my daily wear. In addition, flat sensible shoes don't add height to my already too tall 5'-9.5" frame. But lately, I've found myself drawn to the most insensible shoes I've ever seen.
On a recent shopping trip, I was awed by sky high heeled shoes, brightly colored shoes, and down right sexy shoes I would never have looked at before. I was confused by the astounding array of fabulous footwear. I was even more confused by the potential impact this could have on my self definition. Did this mean that my self definition was changing? Was I just tired of wearing boring black flat good girl pumps? Was this yet one more sign that my 30 year old hormones were so desperately screaming for a man that I was resorting to seduction by sexy shoe?
I was so confused that I bought a pair of sexy leopard print, stiletto-heeled sling-backs. I have yet to wear them. They're such a departure from my usual footwear that I'm afraid of them. It's silly, I know. But I'm scared of the sexy shoes.
I suppose what I'm most scared of is change. And change is difficult, even when it only manifests itself in sexy shoes.
We all define ourselves in different ways. Some people define themselves by their education. Others define themselves by their job. Some people define themselves by their religion. And some people define themselves by physical possessions like homes and cars and such. There are likely as many ways to define ones' self as there are people in this world. But for some people, self definition isn't as easy as identifying a single component. Those of us with complex self definitions often find ourselves shifting and restructuring our many definitions as we grow.
In no particular order, I've always defined myself by my job, my hobbies, and my shoes. These definitions have morphed and moved over the years, but I generally find myself labeling myself with these three definitions. Quite simply, I've always been the sensible shoe wearing engineer who has too many hobbies to count. (It's somewhat depressing to boil myself down to that one short sentence, but there it is. Alas.)
I've always been a sensible shoe kind of gal. Over the years, I've worn too many loafers and good girl pumps to count. It's been a pretty good deal all around. Sensible shoes rarely change style, so I don't have to shop for them often. And they're comfortable, long lasting, and (if purchased in black and brown) guaranteed to match most of my daily wear. In addition, flat sensible shoes don't add height to my already too tall 5'-9.5" frame. But lately, I've found myself drawn to the most insensible shoes I've ever seen.
On a recent shopping trip, I was awed by sky high heeled shoes, brightly colored shoes, and down right sexy shoes I would never have looked at before. I was confused by the astounding array of fabulous footwear. I was even more confused by the potential impact this could have on my self definition. Did this mean that my self definition was changing? Was I just tired of wearing boring black flat good girl pumps? Was this yet one more sign that my 30 year old hormones were so desperately screaming for a man that I was resorting to seduction by sexy shoe?
I was so confused that I bought a pair of sexy leopard print, stiletto-heeled sling-backs. I have yet to wear them. They're such a departure from my usual footwear that I'm afraid of them. It's silly, I know. But I'm scared of the sexy shoes.
I suppose what I'm most scared of is change. And change is difficult, even when it only manifests itself in sexy shoes.
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