By Ginger Truitt
Recently, as my daughter and I were gazing into the window of the fourth shoe store in a five minute span, hubby asked, “How can there be so many different pairs of shoes?”
“That’s easy,” I replied. “God loves us!”
Way back in the beginning, when God created man in the Garden of Eden, He realized it was not good for that man to be alone. So, he created the first woman. Initially, the woman was very happy, running around the garden all naked, and without a care in the world. But then she met the serpent, Lucifer.
Now, most folks say Eve was drawn in by Lucifer’s smooth-talking ways, but I have a different theory. I think Eve wanted to get a closer look at that gorgeous snakeskin, and imagine how luxurious it would feel on her feet. She knew that if she didn’t bring on the demise of all creation by eating the apple, she would never have a legitimate reason to cover herself. So, even though she sinned and God had to make her start wearing clothes, He still loved the woman, and therefore, He created shoes.
The most wonderful thing is that no matter how many dress sizes you gain, your shoes still fit. I might hate clothes shopping because I’m having a fat day (or week, or month, or year), but shoe shopping never fails to make me feel fabulous.
Sometimes, I get a little crazy and buy a pair of shoes that I love, but that do not fit my stay-at-home, mother-of-five lifestyle. Last week, I had a horrible stomach virus that kept me running to the bathroom for three days straight. For a woman who has never struggled with her weight, it would have been a nightmare. But for a girl like me, who constantly battles overeating and prays she can get through every holiday season without topping two hundred pounds, it was an incentive to go shopping.
As soon as the bathroom visits dwindled to every thirty minutes, I headed to a trendy little shop that I’d previously ventured into with my teenage daughter. We were still in Belgium, and I was hoping to find something that would turn hubby’s head and make him forget I’d been green for three days.
Still light-headed from lack of food, I bought a snappy little black and silver number with one blue sleeve. The salesclerk actually told me it was too tight, but I said I was buying it anyway. He apologized for his poor English. Then came the fun part; I had to buy matching shoes. I meandered from store to store, knowing I would fall in love when I saw the right pair. Suddenly they appeared before me, suspended inside a glass case. I felt my forehead to make sure my fever wasn’t high enough to cause hallucinations, for I had never before seen such a glorious pair of black knee-high boots with silver-studded platform heels.
I completed the look with black lace tights, which actually turned out to be ABCs, and made my grand entrance. Hubby could barely get the words out. “Wow! What brought this on? You look great!”
For effect, I gave a wobbly little pirouette. It was then that he noticed the studs. “Wait? What’s that all over your boots?”
“I know! Aren’t they fabulous?”
“Well, they’re going to take some getting used to. They actually kind of scare me.”
I plopped down on the bed, “Yeah, they kind of scare me too. They’re really, really high. I’m going to have to hold onto you for dear life when we go out.”
We had a wonderful evening, just hubby, our two little kids, and me in my tight dress and platform boots. By the time we got back to the hotel, my left knee was swollen and my feet were cursing me.
I put the boots into their box, knowing that they will go in the back of the closet with a number of other unworn shoes I’ve purchased on impulse — a lovely pair of satin stilettos in hot pink, a black patent pair of stripper shoes; flats with faux diamonds that cut mercilessly into my toes; a pair of sandals in an odd mauve color that I would never wear, but have the most amazing zig-zag design on the heel; and my purple curly toed elf shoes from Kazakhstan. My lifestyle mostly calls for flip-flops and sensible Sunday pumps. But every now and then, I spend a few minutes trying on my secret stash, and I remember there is a God, and He really does love me.
Ginger is an author, speaker and mother of five. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.