I Heart Shoes?

Week 7 of the photo challenge was “Heart”.  I could not come up with anything that did not seem trite or contrived.  I prefer to let the images create themselves.  And of course this one did.  Although you saw it mid week last week, it fit the theme and was taken within the allotted time frame.  That makes me a winner!

 

Hemmingway, Where Art Thou?

As you may know, you may have read about it here: https://kmpinkel.wordpress.com/2011/10/06/thursday-reveal-2/. I have a bit of a problem finding shoes; to fit, like, don’t cost an arm and a leg.  Normally, I hate going into a store like DSW.  You walk in and there are just rows upon rows of shoes.  Never organized by size.  If you do not have an average shoe size, you might as well just sit down and cry before you even start to look.  My years of shopping have taught me something.  Clearance is your best friend, particularly in a shoe store.  Everything is placed according to size.  Its like heaven.  Rarely do I find great things, but one fine day, early February when the temperature was tricking us all to think it was April, I headed to DSW to take a quick look.  That spring air makes me want to shop.  And Lord knows my closet is pathetic.  Every single individual in my household owns more clothes than I do.  And most of mine have the word “sweat” involved in it.  This is not me.  Its not the girl I once was, nor that I want to be.  So, when I found these particular shoes I felt like fashion fairies had just been let loose from a long imprisonment and were there specifically over me, as an act of repentance for neglecting me for so long.  They are forgiven.

If you know me personally, you know I have a thing for France and many things french.  I am not sure if these derived from French roots, but when I was in the south of France I swore I would have a pair.  They are like exotic toe shoes, made for me to dance the cobblestone streets of Antibes.  Oh Hemmingway, where are you when I need you?

And what was the icing on the cake?  They were 80% off.  I paid $10 bucks for these lovely shoes.  If you see an odd woman dancing down the sidewalk in espardilles, I’d wager its me.

 

Life is like a Box of Chocolates.

I wasn’t planning on posting today.  I need to get ready to go out of town for a quick trip and I have things to do, but when I found myself locking myself in the bathroom stall in the gym to cry, I knew I’d have to tell someone about this.  We just joined this gym, and after a 5 month absence from working out, I have noticed a bit of atrophy happening.  So I diligently went to 3 yoga “mix” classes and was ready to end my week with pilates.  I came into the class truly surprised that I was only 1 of 5 attendees.  Should have been a sign.  The instructor immediately asked if anyone had not done pilates before.  She looked at me.  It must be the same 4 people that show up.  I said, “yes”.  “What studio?” “I just moved here, it was at a gym.”   She then proceeds in her brusque manner to tell me that she does not actually do the class with us, she will tell us how to do it and make sure we are doing it correctly.

Now at this point multiple things are going through my mind:  a.)  oh crap!  I’m a kinetic learner-this is going to be difficult.  b.)  is it just me or is she angry?  c.)  toughen up, its just ab work, you’ve done it before.

So she proceeds to them tell us to sit upright, not like the girl in the Michigan shirt (me).  So she comes over and physically jerks my body and then pushes on my sternum to physically force my chest to curl in.  After all of this is through, we head to table position.  I am thinking-okay, how bad can I screw this up?  Another side note-I started doing yoga in the year 2000, so table is what it is. Or at least to most people.  I was told twice to keep my head in align with my spine, but how am I suppose to see what everyone else is doing if I cannot turn my head?  I’M A KINETIC LEARNER!!!  So we proceed to doing a modified cat-cow, which meant all cat and very, very, very little cow.  Lactose intolerant?  Well, apparently I was too filled with dairy and she came by me, grabbed the back of my pony tail to adjust my posture.

Now at this point nothing is going through my head that makes any coherent sense at all.  Its like I was in junior high again and being berated for not being fast enough, or unable to do a chin up, or 3 pushups at the ripe old age of 12 is not good enough!  I was between trying not to cry, trying not to get angry and trying to listen to what I’m suppose to do next, but I can’t.  The voices in my head are screaming like a bunch of junior high girls being chased by the mean old gym teacher, and intermittently stiffling a sob.

So, here I am trying desperately to hold it together and I realize I need to figure out the next move.  No need I was again acosted by her  forcible hands into some other position.  It was a total knee jerk reaction, but immediately jumped up and yelled at her.  Seriously, this is me, “EXCUSE ME?  IS IT NECESSARY TO JERK ME AROUND, GRAB MY HAIR AND PUSH ME?”  Yeah, I freaked a bit.  Needless to say, her reaction was to raise her hands and sarcastically saying “Sooorryyyy!  I won’t touch you.”  Was the icing on the cake.  I just picked up my stuff and left and then went into the bathroom and cried.

I grabbed my ipod and got on the treadmill and started walking.  With my eyes closed.  Ever try that?  I had to hang on with two fingers.  I felt like Forrest Gump running from it all, only I was walking.  But having my eyes shut helped me try to arrange it all in my head.  I am not against posture/form correction.  I am against being bullied.  That is how it felt.  And I really felt like she really just didn’t want be there.  She does not want to teach.  She is not a teacher.  She must be a very unhappy person.  But I will thank her for shaving 45 seconds off my mile and allowing for me to go an extra half mile.

I’m trying really hard to just make a life for myself in this new place.  I miss my old gym.  I miss not being the only one who comes into the gym with sweatpants and a t-shirt, instead of Lululemon.  I miss everyone’s smiling faces and friendliness.  The trainers encouragements and just my friends.  On the brightside I got a new pair of running shoes.  I guess we shall see where they take me to, obviously not pilates.

Thursday Reveal.

Its been awhile since I have had a Thursday Reveal.. maybe this means I am coming to some sense of normalcy.  Probably not.

I recently vented on my Facebook about a problem I have.  It’s an uncommon problem for a woman, but, at times, tears me up.  It eats away a t my brains and makes me feel less of the woman I am.  I cannot find shoes.  I have small feet.  Size 5 1/2.  I have to look strictly at clearance racks to see if the store even carries my size.  Most stores I tell you, do not.  I have checked online and have found that my problem runs deeper than the size.  I literally cannot find shoes that I like, or think they would look cool on me-none of it.  I am a huge fan of The Sartorialist and Garance Dore, but I look at the shoes on their sites and think no way.  I am dumbfounded.  In a conundrum.  I have 12 pairs of shoes in my closet.  12 may seem like a lot to one or mere pittance to another.  Of these 12, half of them are a half-size too big.  1 pair I can wear with dresses or skirts only, 3 pairs of black dress shoes.  4 pairs of tennis shoes or a variation of them.  and one pair of ballet flats and a pair of blue suede loafers.  Don’t believe me?

Is there help for me?