Hello my name is Robin and I’m addicted to shoes.
I put myself in the same category as an alcoholic or drug addict. There’s something very euphoric about new shoes. And let’s be specific, we’re talkin heels here. The higher the better. That is until recently.
The past two years I’ve had 5 surgeries on my left foot. That means that in the past approximately 24 months I’ve either been in pain requiring surgery or been in pain due to surgery. Each recovery period left me viewing shoe porn. My choice of porn can be summed up like this: I can’t get enough of shoes. I love heels, colors, designs, leather, pleather, canvas, etc. You make it, I want it. Pumps, wedges, knee high boots, high heeled booties.
I find myself viewing shoe porn more frequently now. I guess because I’m in a kind of denial. I’m 50, with multiple foot surgeries under my belt. I can’t allow myself to look ridiculous in pumps of towering heights any longer. Not because I don’t want to. I truly do. I just prefer to have the comments made behind my back be that of good taste, and not tacky misfortune. “Who does she think she is wearing THOSE kinds of shoes” is not something I want to ever accidentally hear. But that’s not only true with my shoes. I would prefer that I convey a look of “cool yet appropriate” for my age. This girls likes to keep up with the trend, yet mold it into something relevant for a woman of maturity. Yet like any addict, I need my fix. For the past several months I’ve been suffering with so much pain that I have resorted to flat shoes and boots. Yep, those are dirty words to a woman so absorbed in sweet, beautiful platform stilts that the idea of being closer to earth via shoe ware is truly a fate worse than death. And I mean that in the least possible egotistical way. If that’s possible.
I like being tall. I like the way that high heeled shoes make my legs look. I like the way I glide as I balance on those pleasingly provocative height levitators. I feel more in control of my life. I feel prettier. I feel more like me.
Like any recovering junkie, I need to look at shoe life differently. Soda is never gonna taste as good as a frothy, ice cold brewski in a frosty mug to an alcohol fanatic. Flats are never going to produce the same euphoria as their much taller sister, the heel. But like the soda, there will rarely be detrimental side effects indulging in our “more appropriate” vice.
To be honest, I don’t think I’ll need to completely remove myself from indulging in an occasional heel, albeit a much shorter one. It’s too soon to tell what the status of my foot will be. I think if I have the option and availability, a casual stiletto appearance would not completely be out of the question.
But I can’t guarantee I won’t “fall off the wagon”.