For two years now, a really great pair of size 11 brown leather pumps have occupied a spot in my closet. They are slightly too big--a result of having kids, my foot grew a half size. So I'm a 10.5 (in shoe sizes, not a Bo Derrick type of 10.5). Newsflash: most of the shoe industry doesn't make half sizes after size 10. Why? Who knows. It causes me much stress. Anyway, every time I wear them my feet slip around inside the shoes, they fall off my feet, and I'm reminded why I never wear them. But on the flip side (or should I say flip flop side), every time I go to give them away or finally trash them, I can't because they are so flippin' fun and plus they were a steal--$4! (Did you hear that, Robb?) They are also a very timeless classic. So I haven't been able to part with them. Fast forward to The Today Show with Kathy Lee and Hoda. They had the most fabulous tip on fixing shoes that are slightly too big. So here was the tip: take a pad, yes, one of those kinds of pads. The kind your husband refuses to buy. Stick it in the toe of your shoe and it will fix the problem. So right there on live TV, Hoda did it and it worked. She was very pleased. And I was impressed.
Now fast forward a few Sundays later. I wore a brown dress that needed either a brown boot or the brown pump. I wasn't ready to wear boots yet, because let's face it--once winter comes, she stays too long and quite frankly, I get tired of boots. So I put on my coffee colored nylons (I suggest you buy these right now--the coffee colored are the best and you can get them at Walmart. They are the Leggs brand, so they won't break the bank) and then I put on my shoes. I was falling all over the place inside my shoes, so I did what any normal Hoda would do--I put a pad in them. Problem fixed. I wore them to church and was quite proud of myself. My fashionista friend even complimented me on my shoes (she's the same gal who introduced me to Coffee colored nylons), so I knew these shoes were worth the trouble they'd caused over the past few years. After church, I went to ward choir. And like a good guest, I removed my shoes when I entered Sister Olsen's brand new carpeted living room. I was one of the first ones there and stayed the whole time. So imagine my mortification, when I went to the pile of shoes to fetch mine. Yep--there it was. The
forgotten feminine hygiene product was there staring at me--and so was a member of the stake presidency. Beet red, I headed for the car and waited ten minutes for my girls to join me. I shared my embarrassing story with them and they symphathized for a second and then laughed for an hour. A great bonding moment. I then wondered if I'd ever be able to face my choir friends again. How could I explain myself? Was I going to be the topic of conversation at the Sunday dinner table? When I walked into church were they all going to wonder what was in my shoe this week?
But perhaps the most critical question I considered is this:
What on earth would you name this post?
PS--Did I seriously just reveal my shoe size? I have been self conscious of my foot size ever since my Grandpa Hurst pointed out how long my big toe was in front of my entire extended family. I can hear it now--"Theda [my Grandma] look at the size of that toe! Have you ever seen anything like it? Come over here, and let me take a better look. Wow, that's a really long toe. Theda, did you see it? Wow, it's almost as long as your entire foot. Look, Theda, look!" In fact, I'm so self conscious of my foot size that I don't like to go bowling because I hate that my shoe size is plastered all over the back of my heel. Once, while on a date, I asked (discretely) for men shoes in a size 8 so no one would no how large my foot was. And they gave me blisters.
