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October 20, 2001
I've been a bad, bad girl.
And it was such fun!
I've need new shoes for months and months and never
get to Stanford Mall - where Easy Spirit dwells.
They are THE shoes I want to wear because everybody
else's shoes pinch my feet.
I hate shoes that start out OK and then die mid-day
so you are hobbling to the car - or putting on your running shoes to keep
from limping.
I have Easy Spirit shoes scuffed beyond recognition.
I have low-heeled slip-ons that have their heels run down so they wobble
if you stand still.
I have heels the squeak because they are old and
dry.
And my feet are spread. I need a wide shoe when I
weigh in at 165-180 (where I am now).
I wear a medium when thinner.
They have, fortunately, not gotten any longer yet.
I went up 1/2 size per pregnancy, counting the one
where the baby died in the fourth month.
From 7 1/2 to 9. Where I am now.
You nose, your ear lobes and your feet grow. While
your face and your boobs and your butt head for ground cover.
Ain't growing old fun?
Well, I have had it.
Too much stress.
I am a bedraggled mess. No shower. Neither has he.
Rumpled clothes.
Slip-ons run down and in need of washing.
Hair pulled back and fuzzy.
Little make-up.
I took my son in, blood test and disconnect.
And I took him to the Stanford mall for breakfast.
Same cafe he went with with his brother - because
he liked the hot sauce.
Correction - Pepper sauce.
And after breakfast, while he fussed over his hurt
back - I put my car pad under him and rolled him the length of the mall
- to Easy Spirit.
They were having a sale------
Oh dear!
On the way I saw boots - in every window. I priced
a few. $380.
Well, I want boots! Black high-heeled boots! High
boots!
And of course, new slip-ons and heels. Maybe loafers.
I started with three styles.
And worked up from there.
I tried on boots, shoes, heels, slip-ons, loafers.
Mary-Jane - the ankle strap.
Different colors.
Ones I wanted I put up. The others I put down.
I was a 9 medium for some. a 9 wide for others. Very
style-dependent.
But when they fit, they are like slippers.
I got a new one-shoulder bag - on sale.
And a clever clutch bag the opens to a rolling shopping
cart.
Two of them
One in a Leopard skin.
And socks.
And show cleaner.
And a suede brush.
And a clutch purse.
By this time women were watching me.
My son complained that he wasn't a shopping cart.
"Then get up and walk!" was my reply.
A second saleswoman had to come up and help ring
up. Just to share the experience.
A third came in from a break and was told "Look at
the sale --- got!"
"Credit card or check?"
"Credit card - it's here somewhere, hiding out."
They kept asking me if that was all.
They pointed out socks.
"Oh yes, I need socks."
"Buy three get one free."
Enough said.
"Trouser socks! 3 for?"
OK.
That all? they ask.
"Oh a wallet in leopard micro fiber!"
To which the second saleswoman pipes up, "You have
to get it to match---"
Of course I do.
And shoe cleaner.
A a shoe brush.
Which I already own but that remains packed somewhere
in storage.
Finally I asked, to the store at large.
"Do I have one of everything? Yes? I must be done
then."
I was the object of envy.
Over $800. Someone whistled. I said, "Hey! I'm turning
60 and not talking it with me!"
Brown pants boots. Black pants boots. Tall black
boots, what I came in for. Black heels. Black Suede Mary Janes. Burgundy
Mary Janes.
Black Mary Janes - smooth leather - was out. Black
slip-ons. Black loafers. Black bag. Black rolling cart-clutch. Leopard
rolling cart-clutch.
Leopard clutch wallet.
The saleswoman carried bags to the car - so my son
could ride in peace.
I gave her a copy of Jettison. And a calendar.
They are rolling around in the back of the car.
I am going home to throw out every pair of shoes
that pinch my feet.
My son was shaking his head all the way home.
"I've never seen that before---" he says in disbelief.
"I told you I was power-shopping!" is my smiling
reply.
Never deny a woman shoes when she needs them.
Because her desire to shop will simply build up.
It will not fade away.
Of course, my friend and co-conspirator, Pepper,
writes that she needs to go shopping with me.
She wants to see me in action.
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