I can tell
you the EXACT day that I started to care about footwear. And location, if you
care.
First, you should know that I never cared much before a certain time. I mean, I've loved looking at pretty shoes since I was little (by that I mean young, because I'm insanely tall. Ridiculously tall. My house should be at the top of a beanstalk tall.), but never realized what an important part shoes actually play in the crazy world of self-esteem.
Many moons ago, I'd blogged about shoes and my cancer friends for the same reason I now love great kicks; very few women like the way they look. Complimenting one's choice of footwear is always a safe and reliable course of action. I realized while speaking at my first truly large event, October of 2005, that shoes are the cancer girls diversion.
First, you should know that I never cared much before a certain time. I mean, I've loved looking at pretty shoes since I was little (by that I mean young, because I'm insanely tall. Ridiculously tall. My house should be at the top of a beanstalk tall.), but never realized what an important part shoes actually play in the crazy world of self-esteem.
Many moons ago, I'd blogged about shoes and my cancer friends for the same reason I now love great kicks; very few women like the way they look. Complimenting one's choice of footwear is always a safe and reliable course of action. I realized while speaking at my first truly large event, October of 2005, that shoes are the cancer girls diversion.
When I was in chemo, and as recently as 2011 (when I had a radical mastectomy, after myriad other cancer surgeries in previous years), people were frequently looking me up and down, and that was disconcerting. Having people just scan my body in review of body shape, size and apparel options is something I'll never get used to.
Oh, you can hardly tell that's a wig? (Really, just by virtue of the fact that you've said that means you can tell. Thanks ever so.)
Oh, you can hardly tell you had surgery. Are you done, or are you going to have implants? (Ok, YES I opted for implants. And I'm actually all done. Again, by asking the question tells me that I clearly didn't go with a satisfactory cup-size increase. Geesh.)
My defense mechanism? Shoes. If you've got some sweet foot candy going on, nobody ever looks at your ... well, anything else, really. It suddenly goes from a potential discussion of scar tissue, scarf tying or the pros and cons of silicone to something infinitely more yummy. Offered as proof: my dear friend Mary Ann has made an art form of shoe photography during chemo.
The quintessential patent-leather-ankle-tie-cork-wedge. Sky high and built for subterfuge. Here's to distractions, and the cancer patient's art of the ruse.
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