So yes! Today I want to talk about shoes (at which point the men truly click away and hit their favorite site “www.bigtittiewomenwholikemakingsandwiches.com). I, like a good majority of women, love shoes. I love shoes for the same reason most all women love shoes - no matter how wide your ass expands, no matter how robust your stomach extends over the top of your jeans or how many chins you acquire over the years, shoes always fit. Wonderful, beautiful shoes, how I love thee.
I’m a bit different from most shoe loving women due to the fact that I don’t fawn over Manolos or Guccis. While I don’t think anyone should pay over $200 for a pair of shoes EVER, my dislike for those types of shoes is more because I don’t wear high heels, or fancy boots, or any type of footwear that could be considered appropriate wear for dinner at the White House – or on a street corner in LA. I’m not saying that I can’t stand those types of shoes on other people. Hell, I admire people (shout out to the cross dressers!) who are able to wear 5 inch heels, look fabulous and not trip over their own feet. I just can’t do it. Not only do I have arches that would rival the St. Louis Gateway, my feet are simply too damn wide to fit in shoes like that. You may think that you have wide feet. I’m sorry to say that you don’t. My feet are almost half as wide as they are long. I have ordered extra extra extra (that’s 3 extras) wide shoes on the internet and have had to return them for being too narrow.
But wait! You’d think that all this frustration over finding shoes that fit would make me curse shoes forever. But no, the love remains. And the love remains because of one brand in particular, which stole my heart at 18, grabbed hold and never let go. That brand, of course, is my dear beloved Dr. Martens. Oh sure, I’ve had flings with other brands – Vans, Converse, John Fluevog, Simple, MUDD – but I always came back to my ass kicking sweetheart.
I got my first pair of Dr. Marten’s as either a birthday present or Christmas present from my mom. I had wanted Docs for years but it wasn’t until my mother realized that there really wasn’t Any Hope for me that she finally agreed to let me have them. Funny enough, the day we were at the mall picking up the 8-hole black Dr. Marten classic shit kickers was the same day that my mother found out that I had “desecrated the beautiful body that God gave me” by getting a tattoo. You can feel sorry for my mom at this point if you choose to, I was a difficult child. Anyhow, once I had those glorious boots, I promptly put in green laces, spent a month limping about from the pain and bloody blisters breaking them in, and wore them for over ten years until they got to point where they were no longer waterproof what with the front leather having cracked and separated from the back section making sure to show off whatever stripped socks I was wearing that day. I was depressed the day I finally threw them out and I still get misty eyed thinking about them still. I loved those boots.
*sob!* I miss you!
A year or so after I got those Dr. Martens, I ended up working as an Assistant Manager at a shoe store. It wasn’t your typical suburban shopping mall shoe store – it was called the Wild Pair and they primarily sold Dr. Martens and stripper boots with 8 inch heels. I really enjoyed working there (even though all my friends started calling me Al Bundy) mostly because I got a crap load of Dr. Martens on super discount and the manager let us smoke cigarettes in the back.
To this day, I still only wear Dr. Martens. Wait, that’s a lie. I have “fancy shoes” for “fancy events” and I have more pairs of flip flops than I care to admit but my every day shoes are Docs. I have a couple of pairs of Dr. Marten sandals for the summer and two pairs of Dr. Marten Mary Janes for the rest of the year. While I still love the Dr. Marten boots, I just can’t be assed spending 5 minutes every day putting them on. I still spend a month limping about with blisters whenever I get a new pair but it’s always worth it when they get to that point where the leather has conformed to my obnoxiously wide, high arched feet.
Sadly, I have not been paid for this glowing endorsement. I would not, however, turn away any offer of payment if Dr. Marten chooses to send one my way. I am willing to accept more footwear in lieu of cash.