This is part two of “Treading Softly Through Butter”. For some reason the last post had a record amount of viewers (for me anyway) and I can only guess it’s because of the word “butter” in the title. I mean really, if you want to read about something a little weird (and who wouldn’t) try typing “butter” in a blog search engine. So I put it in this title too so that the viewers who read my last one won’t miss out on the second part of this almost-a-series.
So, yes, if you remember my first experience was rather stressful and very disappointing. I was left wanting more. I realized I had to think about myself when it came to getting what I want. Go out and get it. Don’t be shy, be descriptive. Fight for your rights! Demand to be satisfied. Don’t take the pleasure of the hunt for granted ever again.
We’re still talking about shoes right? I have a bit of a warped view of footwear because at a very young age I experienced shoe trauma. Now I want the best that I could afford and scheme to get the ones I cannot. I am shy about a lot of things but never about shoes.
I have been known to embarrass family and friends in public washrooms because I always had to look at what was peeking under the door of the stalls. I didn’t peek under the doors, that would have been rude. But a little tilt of my head while a-tinkling and I could almost always see the shoes in the stall next door. If there was a gem in there, I told the otherwise invisible owner that I loved their shoes. This was usually after consuming at least 3 alcoholic beverages. Since the other person on the other side of the wall was probably in the same condition, my greeting was usually met with enthusiasm. After all, she would have to be a fellow shoe lover to own such amazing footwear . We would have a wonderful conversation through the stall wall until one of us finished our tinkle. Then off they would go, out into the world, without me, with their shoes. Click click click.
I searched for others with the same passion as mine. I once worked at a community health centre and the majority of my co-workers were female and then gay men. I soon discovered my kindred spirits, my sole mates; one of whom had smaller feet than I. There was originally 3 of us with others clicking their way in and out of my life but with these 2 women I shared many happy lunch hours shopping. Many occasions to buy shoes. Sometimes it would be “Who the heck needs an occasion?”
Three occasions stick out in my mind. One of my pump-lover friends, Kris, became a boot lover for a while. We went on a hunt for red boots. Not a red-brown or pink or garnet even but RED boots. After weeks of lunch hours at various malls together, she finally walked in one morning wearing THE RED BOOTS. They were amazing. I could smell the leather and my mouth actually watered. I coveted those boots but they could only belong to her. They were HER RED BOOTS. I was not worthy. I walked by her office a lot just to experience the aroma of fine leather wafting through the halls and bask in their fiery glow.
After a while, Kris announced her engagement. She had her dress planned; pretty easy. Food, hall, catering, flowers; a snap. She was in agony over the footwear. She wanted WHITE BOOTS to go with her dress. You wouldn’t think white boots would be hard to find but it was ridiculous. She was getting married in November and there was no white boots anywhere in our city. You basically had to fly to Hawaii to get boots. She search the ‘net, mail order catalogues, called family in other provinces. No dice. She did find something about 2 weeks before the wedding but they weren’t WHITE, they were off white and they looked so amazing on her. She was a beautiful bride and mostly it was because of her walk down the aisle in those boots. Wow.
The other occasion was kind of sad. Kris had left her job under stressful conditions and my other friend, Corrie, and I were in deep mourning. We developed a hate-on for our boss. It was getting to be impossible to work with her more and more. One day, Corrie cornered me. She had figured out a way for us to try to feel better about the situation with our boss. Shoes. We would take her shopping for shoes. I didn’t know if I could do it. Corrie took me by the shoulders and shook me and said we had to do it. Kris would want us to do it! Our jobs depended on it! We had to go shopping with her to try to bond with her in some way. I said okay but I only said that because she was messing up my hair. I hoped it didn’t have to be that day. Oh yes, that very day Corrie made me go to our boss’s office with her and knock on her door. I seemed to have blocked from my memory of who actually asked her but I do remember the suspicion on her face, her question of “You want to buy shoes with me?” and then a huge smile erupting (good word!). We made the date for the following Tuesday I think. Not even a payday. I was grumbling but I was going to go through with it.
We shopped with her. She bought amazing shoes. I bought nothing. I just couldn’t. There was no pleasure in this. This was a sacrifice. Just like when I was 5 in the shoe store with my sister. I watched my boss buy the nicest and most expensive shoes. I tried on a pair and then gave up. I noticed she had the biggest feet I had ever seen. Corrie was a good sport. I think she bought a couple of pair. Took one for Kris. Atta girl.
My favourite occasion did not involve shopping for shoes at all. No, this happened on a night which started out ordinary and became extraordinary.
Oh and we have to still talk about butter! I’m going to need Nanci’s help with that since I was in a manic phase at the time and my memory is rather distorted and therefore subject to being wrong.
Please leave me a comment and let me know how I’m doing so far or click on the “LIKE” button if you don’t feel like writing.