My large feet have always played a prominent place in my life. As a baby, my feet were so big the doctor predicted I would probably be six feet tall. I had a quick growth spurt in late elementary school that ended with me being the height I am now, five foot, six inches. It also left my feet a pre-teen crushing size 10!
In the town where I grew up, there was one shoe store downtown. Everyone bought their shoes there. Somewhere around the end of the elementary school growth spurt I went shoe shopping. Part way into the store I was met by the owner who informed me, “Honey, we don’t carry shoes big enough for your feet.”
Awkward.
So for the last 30 plus years following sixth grade, I have lived with these incredible Gnome feet; these wonderfully sturdy size 10s. And even though the Amazon predictions regarding my potential height never did come to fruition, I have simultaneously loathed and adored my feet and shoe collection.
Such was the case last week. Remember last Wednesday, when we found ourselves swimming in an afternoon monsoon? That day I was scheduled to record a public television program. I knew I would have to park far away from the studio and decided I would wear my silver and orange athletic shoes for the walk in the rain. Carrying my dress shoes into the studio I asked if it would be a tight or wide shot and whether I would need to change shoes.
I was assured it was a tight shot and feeling confident in my light blue sweater set and black slacks, I settled in for a series of on-air questions. Wrapping up the interview, I caught as glimpse of myself in the monitor. My outfit looked great, complete with glowing reflective sneaker and sporty vibrant orange stripe. Nice look.
Two days later my feet came to the forefront again, in the middle of a wonderfully perfect morning. I was enjoying a morning with the perfect pot of coffee, clothes that were perfectly pressed and my hair that was blown dry to the perfect bob. I was relishing my good, early morning fortune driving to my office in Joplin when the thought blew through my mind, “My feet feel nice and cozy.”
Which was immediately followed by the responsive thought “Why are my feet cozy if they’re suppose to be in dress shoes.”
