grown-up shoes

I'm small.
I think all of my readers, my real-life friends and my co-workers and family realize this.
I've written about it - I specifically remember before I went to Blogher a couple of years ago, writing a post about what fellow bloggers should expect when they met me and one of the top things was to not be surprised by the fact that I'm small.
Anyway. Small. Short - petite even, though I've never been especially comfortable with petite.
When I was a little girl all I wanted (well, all I wanted that I couldn't have) was a pair of slip-on shoes. I wanted what we now call ballet flats. I wanted them desperately and could not have them because my feet were too small.
Of course, I remember it as several years that I was denied this sophisticated pleasure but it may not have been so long.
I remember going to the shoe store with my parents, for school shoes, in August, falling in love with black patent leather ballet flats, waiting patiently for the salesman to measure my feet and being heartbroken when I learned that my feet were too little - that, once again, I would have to have shoes with a strap. I distinctly remember thinking, saying, that maybe when I was in second grade or third grade that I might be big enough.
I must have been only five or six years old.
I should ask my mom about it - see if she remembers it, but the sting of it seems so fresh to me that I don't think about it. I hadn't thought about it for scores of years but the past few years I have fallen for men's shoes and discovered that my feet are too small to buy them and this has refreshed the sting of this childhood injustice.
Now that I am, in fact, grown up, someone will exclaim that my feet are tiny once or twice a week - most recently one of the ladies I admire most at work has mentioned it. She's tall and thin and charming and adorable and seems to feel slightly awkward about her long arms and thin legs and narrow long feet, and yet, when I look at her I think she is perfection. I've always wanted long thin arms and legs and feet.
Feet that fit into what I must have perceived, at five or six, were grown-up shoes.
My tall, slim friend showed me this link today.
It's a good place to browse and pretend we all fit into grown-up shoes.


KPB said…
Was that the Blogher pre-post when you explained to everyone how much you love to be kissed and hugged by strangers?
Jennifer said…
My mom and I are petite too. It's hard finding clothes that fit! (girls' sizes are barely too small, petites' are always sold out, and juniors' fit funny) I don't mind it so much, but I hate when people tell me I'm skinny. "Skinny" sounds so unhealthy! I'm slender, thank you very much!

I don't comment on your posts very often, but I want you to know I've offered you a blogging award! Click on over to my blog to see what is :)
eurolush said…
You are small, but mighty.
Anonymous said…
I remember when my feet were the size of all the display shoes in the department stores. Oh how I loved running around trying on all of the gorgeous heels and pretending to be a glamorous grown-up. I was too young for heels though, since I was NOT small, and was probably only in the 6th or 7th grade.

Caterina said…
I'm tall. 6' feet tall. And while I used to be thin, I'm not that thin anymore. I am one of those who felt "slightly awkward about her long arms and thin legs and narrow long feet." I used to lie and say I was 5' 11 and 3/4" instead of 6 feet :)

I think small is perfection.
Miz S said…
I was skimming through the comments, and I thought that Eurolush said "You are small, but naughty."

Which tickled me.

But I'll go with "small, but mighty" instead.
Shel said…
I have small feet too. Finding grownup shoes is STILL a major pain in the foot. If you've got a good source, share!
dan renzi said…
I once commented to a restaurant server that she was so small, carrying those big trays was a daunting task.

She responded, "I am small, but I mean business!" And HOIST up went the tray.

You don't need big feet to leave a footprint.
robiewankenobie said…
i wanted red patent leather mary janes with the strap. like laureen had. my feet were wide, though. and not just a little. triple e wide. so we had to go to the sensible shoe shop in the older part of the city. where they had no red patent leather mary janes. i got t-strap buster browns instead.

when we drove to my grandparent's house in florida? my mother and i would sneak into shoe shops hoping for the best.

a few years ago, a friend of mine called about my shoe size. and sent me red mary janes for christmas. sometimes? being an adult fairly rocks.
Anonymous said…
Nice link!

I was the giraffe, gangly and awkward.

These days, my sons are making me feel petite, and I love that feeling.

Anonymous said…
I always see myself as big and lumpy, but I gave birth to a girl who has now finished growing and is small. Her tiny frame, tiny hands and tiny feet are my proudest achievements. I managed to breed a girl child who has the attributes that I coveted, but could never achieve.

Small is lovely. You should see that in yourself too.
MizMell said…
I can relate. I have a step stool in the kitchen so I can reach things that come easily to my daughters or their step=father. My JB used to call me the "little woman" when we first married.

After seeing my mother and my mother-in-law shrink due to age, I can't help btu be terrified by my fate!!

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