taking this concept all the way back to my first days of walking, my parents had the privilege of problems with me that required corrective shoes. now, these white monstrosities were probably not the frilly, dainty, girlie shoes my mom had envisioned her little girl wearing. they looked more like something befitting an addam's family child. however, those first few years of life really are the ones that mold us and shape us into who we are as people. so maybe a shoe working on the same accomplishment really was just what i needed.
as my elementary years were sprinkled with imagination and lots of neon colors, so were my jelly shoes. these rubbery plastic cuties were easy to slide on and even had patterns cut into them which provided ventilation for an active florida child. these young years were wrapped in discovery and make-believe. i smiled more than i frowned and laughed more than i cried. having several different pairs and never the best organizational skills (a hinderance i still carry with me today), i ran out the door with two different jelly shoes on one morning, unaware. however, it took me stepping out of my mom's car onto the that dark blacktop that seemed to loom for miles, facing my peers to realize what i had done. this was the kind of bad that sitcom children have dream segments about. i kept to myself that morning and hoped no one would look down at my mismatched feet. sitting in my second grade seat that morning, i kept my trapper keeper propped up around my shoes, hoping no one would notice. this jelly shoe time of my life was colorful and carefree, with small doses of humility.
as my adolescent years walked in, my feet met them with a progression from doc martens to skate shoes to sauconys. they say one's formative years are about self-discovery and experimentation. my personal version of rebellion came from a jar of manic panic hair dye and a preference for loud music. i did discover a lot about myself during that time. but with my only constant being change, i still had much to learn about myself, life and the world around me.
sauntering through my single twenties, heels were my go-to footwear. in the dating scene, standing out was imperative. that extra height provided by a high heel seemed to not only boost my look, but also my self-confidence. i had friends that swore by what a stiletto would do for one in a pair of jeans and i've always had a tendency to believe anything my friends say. carrie bradshaw and i spent a lot of time together in those days and when she said that "i'll literally be the old woman who lived in her shoes," i could relate. during those years, i think it would be safe to say my entire family questioned my footwear sanity when i'd even have on my steeped shoes at one of my nephew's soccer games. nowadays, i still adore my stilettos, but i'm no longer sure they define my life.
as i entered my early thirties, and am still nesting there for the time being, i felt like i was finally settling into myself. i'd heard from both here and there that one's thirties were liberating and i'd have to say i agree. there is something refreshing about peeling off some of the masks we wear on the path to becoming who we are. i'm not saying that i'm there yet and i'm still hoping that the best is always on the horizon. but, i am saying that my shoes are a little flatter, my style is a little easier and i am at a place in life where i am comfortable. just the way i am.
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