IMG_3001When the shoe doesn’t fit, as women, we seem to be hardwired to at least try to make it fit. We figure the shoe will stretch, and believe that if given enough time we can break it in. When that doesn’t work, we curse our foot: if that darn foot was just a bit smaller, or thinner or prettier. Or, if we were smarter, maybe we would have been more selective in our choice of footwear. We blame ourselves, believing there must be something wrong with us. Sometimes the shoe once fit, but now is worn or no longer feels the same. Or, sometimes the foot has changed with time and abuse. For whatever reason, we refuse to let go or believe we have no alternative, because we love the look of the shoe or have made a significant investment, either in time or money.

When the fit isn’t right we’re uncomfortable; even in pain. We sometimes bleed. Yet, we take it. Even when it’s painful it’s familiar pain. We somehow get used to the pain, and some of us even believe we deserve it. We become numb. It’s difficult letting go.

But I have to ask: when the shoe doesn’t fit, why do we assume we need to change the foot?

This is my dilemma. I’m uncomfortable, and sometimes in pain. My feet ache, longing for a shoe that is just out of reach. I’ve tried many shoes over the years. While they may be the sensible choice, the fit still isn’t right with my most recent pair. I’ve known it for a long time that I wasn’t searching in the right places; but I don’t see many options when it comes to shoes, and I can’t afford to be barefoot. Though, that would be so liberating. While I patiently wait for my loved ones to shoe shop, I dream. 

I dream of making my own shoes—just imagining the ability and freedom to design my own shoes makes me smile. They would of course be pretty and girly, comfortable, versatile and perfect for my busy mom lifestyle. I could focus on what matters most to mewhich is not my shoes. Don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. As women, we also seem to be hardwired with a shoe obsession. But for me, my dream shoes would simply be an extension of who I am, and I wouldn’t have to think about them. In fact, they wouldn’t even feel like shoes. They wouldn’t define what terrain I attempted or how far I could walk. I would create shoes that I could effortlessly walk in—I could follow my dreams in these shoes. I long for the day when I find these shoes. I am searching. I am exploring ways to make them mine. I am looking for a way to put my feet first. But for now, I must be patient, make-do and be uncomfortable just a little while longer.