Of all the changes one goes through during pregnancy and after, I think there was only one that bugged me.
Hips spreading, waistline disappearing- none of that stuff bothered me. In fact, I wore it like a badge of honor. How excited I was to bring little lives into the world, and my changing body was a reminder everyday that something AMAZING was happening inside of me.
And, the hormone thing didn’t get to me. Yes, my emotions took a roller-coaster like effect, going from laughter to tears with the flip of a radio station. But, it became kind of funny, and the tears always turned back to laughter.
Forgetfulness felt good, because I am usually pretty organized- it was kind of like a “hall pass”, permission to walk around in another person’s brain for awhile.
But, the feet!
Oh the feet growing killed me, because I had to let go and give up my shoe collection. I know, you probably think I sound nuts. Fine, I’ll take it. But when I was a little younger, shoes were kind of like artwork to me. And now, I don’t feel the need or want to buy myself expensive artwork any more. Jimmy Choo, Sergio Rossi, Prada- all fine designers, but my priorities and perspective changed, and I am just as in love with shoes from Target, DSW, and Zappos.
I have to say, I tried to hold on for awhile, thinking the feet would eventually shrink back, and I could get back into the collection that once represented me. Yes, in my 20’s, I was very much known for having a different pair of shoes for every outfit.
If I went on a trip, I would always return home with shoes as souvenirs. I kept them in the boxes, in the dustbags. I labeled each box, organized them by color, and I admit, even once took an apartment mainly because of its walk-in closet that I knew would house my shoe collection. But, hey, that was all in the past.
In the present, I realized it was time to pass the shoes along to a loving owner, who would cherish them as I once did. I still had them in boxes, but our closets are now filled with Elmo, Dora, Handy Manny, Doodlebops, toys that talk, dolls that dance, instruments that play songs…and the shoes were shoved in any side closet that would have them- not color-coded, not organized, still in boxes (but half of them crushed)!!!
I knew the shoes had to go.
I called my best girlfriend, who happens to wear my former size 8.5, 39 Euro, and told her to come shop. We stacked the shoes up in the trunk of my husband’s SUV, and she, like a kid on Christmas morning, opened the boxes to see what was inside.
It actually felt fantastic. I thought it would be tough, but her excitement over my shoes reminded me of the excitement I feel when Michael brings home new laundry detergent, or when Lu writes her words, or when the Little Man says his A-B-C’s. And besides, I went back in the house to cleaned out, organized closets- now that’s thrilling!!!
