The shoes I have to wear in public are too tight.
People are always surprised when I claim to be an introvert. I don't like big crowds, lots of people, or loud noises. But I like to be liked; I like to be noticed. So I pretend. And that's when the shoes get too tight.
Around certain people, the shoes change. With some of my friends, they become flip flops or really comfy slippers.
With J, I can be barefoot all the time, knowing that she will rub them and put Neosporin on the blisters that come up when I have to wear my too-tight public shoes.
At work, they are pointy toed heels, just tight enough to let me know they're there, but I've been doing my job for nine years, so they've become broken in, and I mostly feel capable in those shoes.
With most of the people of my acquaintance, I feel like I have to wear different shoes at different times. I have to wear the combat boots with my LARP friends, my ballet slippers with my theater friends, and brand new wedges for the people I knew in high school. None of these are terribly comfortable; all feeling like they are too new, too unwieldy.
Some would probably say that if I wore these shoes more often, they would fit better, but the truth is, I hate shoes. I'd rather be barefoot all the time. But if I do that, I step on rocks and sticks, so my feet always hurt worse when I'm barefoot in public.
So I wear shoes that are largely uncomfortable because it's expected of me.
But lately, I cannot merely grin and bear the discomfort of shoes I didn't choose. I cannot stand them. I walk through someone else's life, wearing shoes I don't even own. And the person they belong to has narrower feet and non-existent toes.
These shoes don't fit. They aren't my shoes. These shoes leave me hobbled, too afraid to take a step because I will twist my ankle, leaving me sitting on the sidelines, as usual, in my fabulous, yet terrifyingly uncomfortable shoes.
Nothing fits, and I end up staring at a rack filled with more shoes than I know what to do with, because it's easier than wearing them.
I probably will never feel like I can be barefoot all the time; that just leaves my feet too vulnerable to the perilous places I have to walk. Maybe some day, I will find a pair that really fits, but for now, I will continue to be barefoot with J, and pretend that the shoes I wear with everyone else don't leave me with blisters Band-aids can't cover.
