You Know What They Say About Women With Big Feet Don't You?
I ventured out to the mall with the family this past weekend. Let's face it. One woman's crappy mall and $2 Carousel is another woman's Jesus, and quite frankly, I have been in need in Jesus. Or at least Jesus in the form of a rotating horse, Mr. Bulkies, and a Chick-fil-a value meal #1.
All was well with the world -- happy toddler, sleeping baby, and fairly unannoying husband until I got this bright idea that since I had lost all this weight now, I might be able to actually wear cool shoes again. You know, ones that aren't hidden in the back of the store on the extra-sale-clearance rack because even though they are only $10 no one wants to buy them.
Hey. They're comfortable! (Isn't that what the old ladies say about their Rockports?). Ack.
A 10. Or recovering 10.
Now let me remind you that I'm 5'11" and no matter how big you think my feet are, they are pretty relative to my height. I've gotten the "omg you have such big feet" comments almost my whole life but look here tiny people. It would be really odd to see me wearing a size 6 shoe. In fact, I think I'd fall over. And so yeah, my feet are big. But so am I. You know. We sort of go together. Like Laverne and Shirley. Strawberries and chocolate.
It's tall Kristen and her big feet!
I do admit that in the latter half of my pregnancy, I was unable to wear most of my shoes. I even bought a pair of wides. And, much to my chagrin, I fit into a pair of size 11 Diesel sneakers that just so happened to be on that extra-sale-clearance rack in the back of the store. So sue me. I'll take a pair of Diesel sneaks for $10 any day. At least that's what I told myself as I brought them up to the counter and hid the size from the sales guy.
"These are on the rack back there because of the size, right?" I thought to myself. I mean. God forbid I buy gigantic shoes that are ugly too.
Now I'm not a predjudiced, but I will say I've often thought pretty bad about the size 11. I mean, size 10 is big. But still cool. An 11? Oh man. You must be a giant. And from what I can tell, have absolutely not taste in shoes. Seriously, aren't the most awful looking shoes always an 11? I always felt bad for those people. Until I became one of those people. And then I realized, like clothes sizes, it really doesn't matter so long as they fit and look great.
Stacey and Clinton would be so proud.
So, I try on the shoes at Macy's and except for the one pair of 10's that are too big, everything else is just a little snug. I look at my foot. I look at my baby. I shake my head. And just as I was about to walk away, the chipper salesguy reappears.
"How did they work for you?" he asks, rubbing his hands together as if he thought I was about to buy four pairs of shoes.
"Well. I love the boots, but they're a little snug. Do you have them in an 11?" I asked, boldly going where few women have gone before.
Suddenly, the little man becomes oddly somber and leans into me speaking in a weird strained whisper.
"No, we don't have 11's in those," he says, shaking his head.
"And in fact, we don't carry 11's in ANYTHING."
His eyes bulge. He huffs. He grabs the boxes. And walks away.
Um. Okay. Thanks for that humiliation. And PS. Grown men don't huff.
Honestly, I can't say that I wasn't surprised. But was that really necessary? Because he should know better. I mean we all know what women with big feet have (or at least, this big footed woman).
One big post-partum ass to squish little wiry shoe salesmen.