Thursday, March 24, 2011

Feet Monger

So, I have feet. No, no, no...not just feet, but feeeeet. It's like someone stuck two beanpoles into clown shoes just to have something to point and laugh at. Wearing a size 10 or 11 (okay, fine, an 11, sheesh) I was fairly self-conscious of them growing up. I mean, I would kid and what-not but deep down I would stare at those size 7's with so much envy, my eyes turned the color of the Incredible Hulk. But I've grown to love and embrace them, and the fact that some shoes cute in a size 7 will never, ever, be cute in an 11. It's just the way of life. 

Even when I go shopping people, I don't look at the shoes, I look at the size on the box before I even get my hopes up. With all that said, I am very much a shoe whore. I love heels, the taller the better (because of course it makes my foot look smaller) and because I have no qualms about towering over people since I've been doing it for most of my life (I'm 5'10").

And I know, that while every parent says they'll love their kids no matter what they still all have things that they hope they don't inherit. Unfortunately for Lillie, it looks like she got her mama's feet. But on the bright side, they're amazing tools for picking up dirty laundry and maybe, just maybe, I'll finally have someone I can share shoes with someday.

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