The Red Shoe story is part of our family lore. It’s told nearly every Christmas by my mother
and laughed at by my family. The story
serves as a reminder of how patient my parents, particularly my mother, were as
well as an indication of who I was/am.
When I was six-years-old my mother took me shopping
for my new school shoes. She chose for
me a pair of thick soled Oxford shoes that I was required to wear because of my foot problem (my left leg and foot
are slightly smaller than my right). I
hated these shoes. They labeled me as
different from the other girls in the school yard who wore patent leather Mary
Jane’s. My shoes marked me as the girl
who wore boy shoes. It didn’t matter how
my mother explained to me that they were better for me and that it was doctor’s
orders. I was sure my mother and doctor
were stupid and wanted to torture me. While my mother was choosing from a row of
similarly ugly Oxford shoes, I wondered around the store eyeing all the shiny
black and white shoes when my eye was caught by red. Red patent leather Mary Jane’s, just like the
one’s Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz except, no glitter.
I didn’t mention school or my dreams of being
Dorothy to my mother I just tried to convince her that the red shoes were much
better than the boy shoes. When that
failed I threatened her with grandma.
Grandma would get them for me. My
mother ignored me and we left the school with the ugly boy shoes.
When we got home my mother went to the kitchen to
start dinner while I headed to the living room to call my grandmother. I’d watched my parents speed dial my
grandmother’s number – #2 (I come from the pre-cell phone generation where we
speed dialed numbers) lots of times and figured I could too. I was right.
Once my grandmother was on the phone I explained all
about the shoes and was only interrupted once by my mother who asked me who I
was talking to. I told her and she
decided I was just playing. When I told
her that grandma wanted to talk to her she decided to humor me and picked up the
kitchen phone.
She quickly realized I wasn’t playing and after a
ten minute conversation it was planned that grandma would accompany us back to
the shoe store the next evening to look at
the shoes. In my mind look meant buy.
Much to the clerk’s amusement and my mother’s
humiliation, we were back in the store.
The red shoes were pulled from stock, placed on my feet, and purchased
by my grandmother. The stipulation was
that I was to only wear them to church on
Sunday. That stipulation quickly
flew out the window when I insisted on wearing them every day until I grew out
of them.
My parents took raising my brother and me in
stride. Sometimes, they let us get our
way and other times they didn’t. When we
didn’t get our way we were given real explanations and not told, “because I
said so” like so many other parents did in moments of desperation. They didn’t punish us for talking back. They never raised a hand to us unless we
really really really deserved it (I’ve been spanked once, my brother twice).
Growing up, I could be a pretty determined kid. If I wanted something I found a way to get
it, whether it was calling my grandmother or earning the money to get what I
wanted. I was opinionated and even then
had a sense of fashion and style. As an
adult I’m still a pretty determined kid.
I’m very opinionated and I have a great sense of fashion and style. I’m also not afraid to voice my opinion,
stand my ground, and concede when I’m wrong.
I won’t lie and say my life was always roses and
butterflies because no one’s life is a garden party. There were points in my life where I doubted
my fashion sense and myself. I suffered
from low self-esteem and sometimes I still have bouts. However, when I think about my six-year-old
self I realize that I had it right from the beginning and I need to stay true
to her. She loved those red shoes and
how they made her feel.
I named this blog after those red shoes. That was one of the first moments when I
really truly made a fashion decision as well as expressing who I was as an
individual. The Red Shoes Chronicle is a
blog about fashion and style but most importantly about body image, and living
as a curvy woman. I hope to explore and
give insight into what it’s like to live, work and shop in the world when
you’re not what society considers, thin,
healthy, fit…chose your acronym. By
sharing my stories and observations I hope to give others inspiration and
confidence to not only be themselves but to love themselves. You are not alone. I’m here and we are in this together.
 |
| me wearing my new red shoes |
–Weesha
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