Very important stuff

The particular important stuff we will discuss today is: shoes. Summer is approaching, and in fact is nigh upon us, here in Canada where we jump into summer with both feet as soon as the snow melts enough to allow for footwear without ice picks. It is time to begin conditioning or training for the transition from sensible, thick-soled boots to fun and flirty flip-flops and strappy sandals. This means scraping rough skin off the heels and prettifying the toenails, and whatever else may be necessary according to your own personal situation - no judgement here, merely acceptance and encouragement.
One particular element of my conditioning regimen is to stock up on sticking plasters - bandaids. Blisters are about to become a fixture in my life for the next five months or so. I haven't yet found a way to avoid this, so I simply embrace this reality and try to be prepared. I love summer shoes, but it's a sure thing that even the sensible ones I bought and wore last summer are going to cause a little grief, at least in the beginning. No pain no gain, right? Especially when it come to our feet, it seems.
I am a female, so I am genetically drawn to shoes. However -- and this took me a while to understand and accept about myself -- I don't go ga ga for fancy fashion instruments of torture. Choo, Louboutin, Ferragamo are names that make my toes curl up in reflexive protection. Besides the fact that they look very pinchy, I am stumped by the engineering of those constructions: how to put them on, how to balance in them, how to achieve forward, upright momentum...these questions leave me baffled without answers.
Perhaps there are classes offered somewhere that teach the feminine tricks of walking in high heels, slouching with elegant disdain for pictures, and wearing red lipstick without staining your teeth. Maybe these things were taught in high school health classes, and I missed out because I played hookey with a friend to finish my law papers (ie. watch Days of our lives) I seem to be lacking the requisite hip action to manage walking in heels and don't really mind that much because I am frustrated by the enforced dawdle anyway. I know some women who seem to have been born in high heels. They manage to run up and down stairs as if in Keds, and give the impression they could tackle a desert trek or a football match in their Jimmy Choos. Good for them! I applaud them!
On the subject of shoes, we must address the agonies that women subject themselves to, in terms of size and fit. Why, why, why do we believe the sales clerk who lies to us - bald facedly - and tells us that 'they will stretch with wearing'. HA! You know, and she knows, that this is patently untrue...even if the shoes are patent leather. They may indeed stretch, but it is never in such a way that the shoe will magically fit your foot comfortably. They may grow in length so that you continually walk out of them, or they may spread in width so that you uncomfortably slide around inside them. But most of the time they will merely continue to pinch and cause you to hobble from car to event, event to car, car to foot bath. I once fell in love with the shade of brown of a pair of leather kitten heals. They were obviously a half-size too small, if not more. But I brought them home with me and engaged in a routine of wearing them with thick grey woolen socks for a week before the event I bought them for. After the first five minutes I no longer noticed any pain and thought things were working really well. Until I attempted to walk and promptly realized I could not feel my feet at all... I may as well have been walking on the bloody stumps of my legs! This is not good! I know that women endure this kind of self-inflicted torture all the time, and I say "No more!" Mr Choo should be made to wear his own shoes or go into partnership with Dr. Scholl.
I can't wait to hear the sound of flip-flops and to feel pebbles lodged in my sandals. Bring on the summer shoes!