A Farewell to Shoes

I've had my share of crushing blows this past year. Granted they've been nothing quite like the stuff that happened to everyone's favorite "slumdog millionaire," but the worst of them struck hard at the core of my self esteem and joie de vivre. We had to sell my beloved home in Costa Mesa. Our dear old kitty, Poudre, left the planet to join his "great spirit," Bruce (my late first husband). Mom fell twice and spent four months recovering in hospitals and rehab. My cherished stepdad passed away. Looking back, there was a silver lining in each of these personal tragedies - either the elimination of pain for a loved one, eventual recovery and regeneration, or relief from serious financial strain.

By far the most lasting unshakable grief comes from something that might seem utterly benign to most people. I can no longer wear my precious high-heeled shoes. Unlike Imelda Marcos, former first lady of the Philippines, who lost her extravagant shoe collection to public opinion, I lost mine to a bunion. And a hammer toe. On my right foot. Perhaps someday I'll be able to get them fixed; but for now I'm sentenced to ugly, flat, super-wide footwear. Gone are my pointy-toed Jimmy Choo's and sexy high-heeled sandals. I'm lucky if my fat foot fits into a Birkenstock. When I tried to wear my leather boots to work in the rain yesterday, stuffing my right foot into one of them caused the stitching to burst. About the only comfy shoes I have now are Ugg's or equally repulsive Croc's with sheepskin lining.

This is all my fault. At 5'9", I didn't need to wear stiletto heels; but I loved them. I enjoyed towering over men in the workplace, and being just a tad shorter than my husband. I could gain five pounds and nobody would notice as long as I was in my beautiful shoes. Unlike Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City fame, I didn't shop at the expensive shoe stores. I went to Nordstrom's Rack or Marshall's and found an infinite selection of gorgeous heels. A couple of years ago I hosted a fundraiser for my church called "A Passion for Shoes." Ten women joined me for a champagne limo ride that began at Off Broadway Shoes, stopped for lunch at Sage Restaurant, proceeded to DSW Shoe Warehouse and then back to Off Broadway. We had shoe trivia contests with our champagne and even put shoes on the table during the luncheon.

I loved shoes so much that I photographed the great ones worn by friends, such as Rev. Sandy Moore, whose foot appears in both photos here. Little did I know in 2007 when I laughed at Iyanla Vanzant's story of learning invaluable life lessons from a foot problem that caused her to give up heels (see first photo of Iyanla's booted foot alongside Sandy's graceful heel) that I would soon be in the same boat - or boot.

In 2008, I was struck by the Big Foot Curse - lots of pain accompanied by the inability to walk long distances in anything but Ugg's, or Gary's sneakers. I went to two different doctors for opinions. I couldn't afford to take time off from my new job to get my foot fixed. Tragically, my love affair with shoes had come to an abrupt and shattering end, along with my exercise program. I took comfort in margaritas and nachos with guacamole and extra cheese.

Maybe I'll get the wretched bunion removed in the next year. Somehow, working for a living is way more important to me now than wearing Manolo Blahniks - or even Famous Footwear. Losing the ability to wear pretty high heels is way better than losing food on the table, friends I love, or a roof over my head (thank you, Slumdog). I haven't given up the occasional pedicure. And there's always jewelry.