Day six – From a low angle

Hello fellow Void explorers, I trust I find you well.

Brrrrrrr, it is just too cold, come on England, turn up the thermostat, if need be I can spear a penny or two to put in the heating meter.   I want my flip flop days back again, getting bored of having to spend ages put on boots and then having to wrench them off with numb fingers a little while later.   Don’t get me wrong, I like the cold, I like it because when you get cold you can snuggle up in blankets and pets to get warm but when its hot, it’s not that easy to cool down again, hate being all clammy and flustered, on the up side I do not have to wear shoes.

IMG_6588s copyI have an extreme lack of interest when it comes to shoes, I just don’t get the big wow about them, you put them on your feet to avoid treading on snails, simples.   I feel slightly ashamed to be called a girl for this failing, I just cannot get interested in something so boring.

I have always been this way, as a kid getting shoes was a big event because I have to wear ones that support my ankles, unfortunately I have skinny long feet and getting shoes for that is near enough impossible.  I would get stressed, my mum would get desperate and dad would be somewhere else.  Days would be spent searching for the illusive shoe; I bet even Cinderella would have an easier time than me.  Not only was it stressful but also it was down right tedious and I think this may have been the start of my shoe blah.

Bare in my mind I was painfully shy as a kid so having strangers playing with my feet was just epically awful.  They come along with their super hair sprayed , over make up, a mixture of cigarette smoke and bubble gum selves and they would shove and jam these adequate bits of leather on my feet and announce they fitted, .. no they didn’t, no where near, lucky I have the watchful mother who on inspection of the “walk up and down” she could see, no they don’t fit, see them flopping, see them rubbing, oh Roubey do walk properly, do you have a half size?.  The half size, that’s a whole new problem, for some reason I have always been a half size, there must be millions of people around the world with half size so why in the holly cheeses do shops never have a half size in the ones I like, this is another thing that always put me off, it was that piece of chocolate cake on a rope.

As a kid I went through shoes because I was, well, growing but also as a kid different types of shoes require different entrances and exits such as laces, buckles, Velcro, chains, hooks etc some of them all on the same shoe, so for a while it was Mothers job to put on and off shoes during these trips and that takes time, then it was my turn because it is no good giving me shoes I couldn’t prove I could get on and off on my own, so the process would slow even more, frustrated more, bored more just want to go and play on the swings more, hate hate hate.  It was a mission that was not going to go away so when that one shoe was finally found, it was like the holy grail of life being sent down from heaven itself, my mother would become human again, dad could come out of hiding and as a treat I got to wear the new ones home.  Oh believe me it was a treat, you know why?, because I wouldn’t have to be dragged to the horrible shoe shop with those horrible ladies who do horrible things with my horrible feet.

I am now grown up and nothing has changed, getting shoes is still a mission and one that I am still bullied into by my mother and now my fiancé, still hate it.  When my mother goes into a shoe shop, I stand outside, I point blank refuse to go in, I know it is rude but I rather risk stepping on glass than go into the territory of hell.   I am still a half size, and still shops don’t cater for my dead fish of feet.

My mum tells me this one story of how she was so proud that she bought me these little highly polished red sandals for my first day of infant shoe, they where the epitome of beauty, she was the super mum sending her tiny daughter off to school with these epically shiny soles of wonderment, other mothers would be envious at the sight of them.   A few hours later she comes to pick up the same daughter, very dishevelled, hair everywhere, the iconic silver sleeves of a child that has spent the day wiping her nose on her sleeve and a new pair of shoes with every bit of polish wiped off the face of the planet, if you felt a slight thud, that would be my poor mothers jaw hitting the ground.

I do wish I could wear high heels, they make my legs look lean and mean but after ten minuets of this torture, they are usually thrown across a room and the trusty Converse’s come out.   This is why my shoe collection is small for a girl.  On the other hand they my shoes have to unique, it bugs me to see people with the same shoes because it was so hard to find those and then they come along and pick them off the shelf and they fit perfectly, ahhhhhhhhgggg.  Hate, on the other hand, they do look great to look at.  So just to sum it up, hate shoe shopping, hate pointless shoes, hate, thank you.