I used to tease my mom about the shoes she bought me when I was a kid. After I'd grown up. When I was a kid I didn't know anything was wrong. I suspected, but I didn't know for sure.
When I looked at the shoes on other kids feet the shoe strings weren't too long like the ones on my shoes. And the eyelets you laced the shoes with weren't pulled together like the ones on mine. And the toes of their shoes weren't long and flat. My shoes looked like clown shoes; like clown shoes that were falling apart.
Mom never took me to a shoe department to get my shoe size. She worked at K-Mart and would buy me shoes when they ran a Blue Light Special. She would buy a larger pair than she bought the last time thinking I'd eventually grow into them. If I still had every pair of shoes she bought me I would never have grown into them. My foot stopped growing at size 9 but I had several pairs that were size 12. I didn't know what my shoe size was until I started buying my own.
I was the shortest kid in class. I had a weird name. I had an overbite, with one jutting front tooth. My overly large non descript, non-branded footwear never seem to make it into the realm of things the little monsters I was imprisoned with found interesting enough to tease me about.
I knew I was short because that was a focus of ridicule. I was delighted when a shorter kid moved into the district and was sentenced to spend his childhood in my detention center. That was one barb that couldn't go quite as deep anymore.
There was nothing I could do about my name but eventually mom and dad got me braces to correct my snaggle toothed, closed mouth smile.
For years I was 'tinsel teeth' but that didn't bother me. Someone called me Black and Decker pecker wrecker one time, but it didn't hurt, though it made me skittish. I could no longer imagine a girl with braces doing something so intimate. I kept hearing the cough and splutter of a chainsaw being started as I imagined her going down.
I wish someone had made fun of my shoes. I would have known long ago that they were too big and I could have complained to my mom. I was a walking talking target of too many dorky things for the mogwai in my asylum to take notice of my ridiculous footwear.
Today my shoe size is 9 wide, but there's no way I could wear a shoe that actually fits because I've never worn a pair of shoes where my toes were within an inch of the end of the shoe. I always buy shoes at least a full size larger than I need.
New Years Day 2023 I told Sara, my 17 year old daughter, that I'd buy her a new pair of shoes. She wanted them for track and field, so when we got to the Shoe Carnival I asked a teenage girl if she'd check Sara's shoe size. I told her I thought she was an 8 wide, but I wanted to be certain.
I asked Sara what size she was and she told me the same. "8 in women's and 5 1/2 in men's." I don't know where she came up with that, or even why men's and women's sizes are different.
I told Sara to kick off her boots and let the girl get her shoe size. She was reluctant because she hadn't put on socks. Ugh. The girl told Sara she could put on a little nylon sock that was in a Kleenex box sitting next to her.
After the girl got Sara's shoe size and went off to do shoe business elsewhere in the shoe store, I told Sara to take off her other boot and put on another one of those nylons. I think Sara thought we were being naughty. I was just feeling guilty that Sara didn't have easy access to neatly matched and paired socks. I also wondered where I could buy a box of those disposable nylons.
In my defense, when a teenage girl comes home from school her clothes explode off her body and land in unlikely places all over the house. Socks are notoriously hard to keep in pairs. I noticed girls wearing mismatched socks and I thought it was on purpose, but now I think it's because the mates are never found or they show up several loads of laundry later.
My niece is a different story. I had finally figured out my footwear situation and spoiled myself by buying a dozen pairs of Chuck Taylor All-stars. When I was a kid all the cool kids wore Chuck Taylor high-top basketball shoes.
I finally had enough pairs of Chuck Taylor All-stars that I would mix and match the colors. If someone asked me where I got my shoes; let's say I had on a powder blue on the left foot and a canary yellow on the right foot, I'd point to the right one and tell them I got this one over there and the other one somewhere else. I would tell them I had another pair at home that looked just like these, but they look like this when I put them on. I would put my right foot on the other side of my left foot.
The first time my niece, Brooke, saw my silly mix and match Converse high tops she thought it was awesome. She ran to her room and came out a few minutes later with an ear to ear grin on her face. "Look! Now I'm just like you!" She'd put on mismatched socks, which led her down a path of personal weirdness that only a weird uncle could love. (Love you Brooklyn!)
It turns out that Sara's shoe size is 5 1/2. Not 5 1/2 wide, just 5 1/2.
The revelation that Sara, my youngest daughter; my itty bitty baby, might have gone through the same clown shoe phase that I did was embarrassing.
Fortunately they didn't sell a women's size 5 1/2 so I bought Sara a pair of size 6s. If she's anything like me after growing up wearing shoes that are far too large for her, she wouldn't want her toes touching the tips of her shoes. I wasn't going to embarrass her by taking her to the little girl's section of the shoe store to buy new athletic shoes for her upsettingly small feet.
Well, yes, I didn't want to embarrass Sara but I also didn't want to know if she would be excited by the idea of wearing a pair of tennis shoes with pink fluffy unicorns and Velcro fasteners instead of shoe laces. We'd cross that bridge another day.
Sara put on her new shoes in the car and every where we went that day she would run. It was as if she was given wings and she couldn't help but fly everywhere.
I remember the first pair of tennis shoes I bought for myself. They had a brand name: Saucony. My shoes never had a brand name before. The first time I took off running in those shoes it felt like I was bouncing around on air mattresses strapped to my feet. It was amazing.
After the shoe store we stopped at the Walgreens where Robey works, though she was probably at home asleep because she works the night shift. Sara stayed in the car to admire her brand new shoes. Zack and I went in so we could buy beard balm for our beards. It's going to be a good year.
Happy New Year!
