Shoe Shopping, Friday the 13th and Other Disasters

I'm pretty sure that I've established that I am not your average red-blooded American girl.

Did I ever mention that I HATE shoe shopping?

Now I LOVE SHOES...but I can not stand the practice of going from store to store looking for the perfect pair of shoes. Actually, I can't find the perfect pair of shoes, because for me, they don't exist.

Mainly, because I wear a size 11 (that's a 9 for you men-folk). I think they might be a normal size if I didn't have these freakishly long, monkey toes. The longest, my second toe, is two inches long, a full half inch longer than my big toe. You should see them in a "peep toe."  Attractive, I know. And by monkey toes, I mean that they are functional, like a monkey's. I can pick up anything off the floor with them. I can color with them, although not that neatly, They were certainly helpful in my tree climbing days. Once, a dare, I picked up a pen and then wrote my name with them. Monkey Toes.

My attempts at shoe shopping been a life-long struggle, horrors of which are pretty well documented here .

I'm always dismayed as my favorite shoes begin to wear out, because that means that the hunt is now on to replace them. I've become pretty crafty when it comes to repairing my shoes, because they are so hard to replace, but there are times when Gorilla Glue and a Sharpie are no longer effective.

Such is the fate of my favorite pair of kitten-heeled, black, strappy sandals.

I've known this day was coming for quite some time, several months in fact,  but have been unsuccessful in replacing them.  I thought about even stealing a clever idea from another blogger, Lifestyles of the Thrifty and Shameless, and paint some  but I'm afraid of staining my feet (a horrific bridesmaid story for another post).

After glueing my shoes back together, yet again, I decided to try again yesterday in a different area of town to see if I'd have better luck.

 I tried out Belk's at The Summit. This was actually the only place I went because after I left, I was so discouraged, I left.  I really thought there'd be more shoe shopping at The Summit, but after driving around for about 45 minutes, I guess I was wrong.

After wandering through their shoe section for nearly an hour, a sales associate came to my rescue and asked if she could help me. I pointed to my feet, explained that I needed another pair of shoes, pretty much like the ones I had on my feet....kitten heel, kinda strappy but not too much. She looked down and smiled, nodding along as I spoke. Then I said those dreaded words, "I need an 11."

The smile quickly faded. I've seen that expression before. "Yeah, I know" I quickly added, knowing that she had just agreed to climb the Everest of shoe sales. "Let me see what we have upstairs."

While she went "upstairs" to find my humongous shoes, for my gargantuan feet with my monkey toes, I wandered around some more in the store. It was taking a long time. I had begun to think that she and her coworkers were somewhere deep in the bowels of the store, watching me on the security feed and laughing at me.

It was not much longer after that, that she emerged from the back, panting and sweaty and carrying an armful of shoe boxes. Seven  to be exact. I imagine that where ever they keep the 11's they are a long way from the front, oh, and she did say, upstairs.

"Okay, this is every, black sandal in an 11 that we have in the place. I will hold them up and you just say 'yes' or 'no'....Okay?"

Apparently she already knew I would not be happy and knew this wasn't going to take up any more of her time.

All of them were too casual, though I did like the wedges. But not $95 dollars worth.

Defeated, I left the mall, and drove  home.

Darling Hubby looked up from the game that he is constantly playing on his phone. "I thought you were buying shoes" he said. "I thought I was too" I responded "but my feet made other plans."

I went to bed early, depressed and discouraged and contemplating how hard it would be to walk without my toes.

~En-JOY