I am a shoe bore. Yes, that’s a “b” not a “wh.”
Why? Because every pair of shoes I own are black and no higher than three inches (and I’m rounding up).
Even my husband tells me that I need to expand my horizons and his idea of fashion forward is a tie-dyed t-shirt from a Grateful Dead show and a cheese-shaped wedge that he wears as a hat (thankfully only when he’s watching a football game).
Yes, I have tried other colors. Once, I bought a pair of red suede shoes. They looked so pretty in the store and I thought I was finally ready to break out and try something different. But when I got home and tried them on again they just weren’t right. They just weren’t me.
I guess if I were a shoe, I would be a plain black loafer. Not because I own a pair of black loafers (actually I own three) but because it is a sensible shoe and I am a very sensible and practical person. Some would even call me a bit of a square.
Growing up, I was the teacher’s pet, the proverbial good girl who always tried to follow the rules and never rebelled against my parents.
In college, I tried pot because well, it was college. But every time I tried to inhale I would cough so much that I finally just gave up. (Maybe Bill Clinton was telling the truth?)
When I was in my twenties, I went to Club Med and while my friend got her freak on with some guy she had just met, I sat inside in the air conditioning nursing a case of sun poisoning that had caused my body to break out in a red itchy rash.
Now that I’m older I wonder, as a lifelong good girl, did I miss out on something? Has my life as a goody two shoes put me at a social disadvantage? And if so, as I approach my 51st birthday, is it too late or is it possible to trade in my loafers for something more colorful, with more style. Something, perhaps, with a peep-toe?
Is it too late to change and be more like…my friend Diane?
The Rizzo to my Sandra Dee, Diane is the quintessential life of the party.
If I am a plain black loafer than Diane is a rhinestone-encrusted stiletto.
I admire her outgoing, no-holds-barred approach to life. Diane is comfortable with who she is and isn’t afraid to flaunt it. She is the fun mom that all the kids love, the crazy aunt, and the loyal and caring friend that so many adore.
Diane is the kind of woman that makes you think, “if only I could be even just a little more like her.” She’s someone you’d see at a deli and say, “I’ll have what she’s having” because she knows how to make everyday Funday.
We’ve been friends now for about five years and during that time I’ve had a front row seat to seeing how a smoking cheerleader from the Motor City navigates midlife. And I have to admit, like her, its pretty freakin’ awesome.
Still, I’m just not sure if this goody goody, 50-something from Smithtown (yes, that really is the name of the town I grew up in, very Leave it to Beaver-like, don’t you think?) will ever be able to fit into a kickin’ pair of Christian Louboutin stilettos with its signature red sole, because deep down I will probably always be a plain black loafer.
But with a friend like Diane, anything is possible.