If the shoe fits...
I have, for quite some time now, been of the opinion that the lies we tell ourselves are by far the worst and most destructive.
"I can stop drinking/shooting up/renovating/facebooking whenever I want," for example or "Most people can't pull off a burgundy rinse without looking like the Queen of Bogan-ville, but I can" might be another. Some of these self-deceptions are small, others are huge but all cheat us out of living a more honest, authentic life and I am committed to ferreting out and shining a light on auto-mendacity wherever it may (ahem) lie.
Which is why I have a confession to make. I buy shoes that don't fit me properly. There, I said it. Wow, it feels good admitting it, you know, sole soul cleansing even. But it's not so much that I spend money on an essentially useless product - anyone who's ever purchased anything from the Innovations catalogue knows what that feels like. No, the real problem is the insane level of denial that goes on immediately before I buy them.
Now, I do not have dainty, Victorian, "Cinderella" feet, but this is a fact I have been aware of for quite a while and when you're of above average height, having bigger feet is par for the course. I am not one of these people who steadfastly claims to be a size 6 when she's clearly a 7 and a half. In most cases I'm a 10, sometimes a 9 depending on the style...and I know it. But as we all know, just because a shoe has a number on it that roughly corresponds to the size of your foot doesn't mean that it will actually fit you. At least we should know it but apparently I'm not the only one who tells herself she'll "break them in". It seems that over a third of British women do this too and I'd wager that a similar percentage of Kiwi gals torture their trotters thusly.
And I'll tell you why. It's because of The Pretty. There is no woman anywhere who has ever squeezed herself into an ill-fitting, uncomfortable pair of ugly shoes and thought "Well, they're leather so I'm sure they'll stretch" but some sexy strappy numbers that make your legs look half a mile long? Abso-frickin-lutely. You'll see the same effect at work when a woman is considering her options when acquiring a new bra or, sadly, boyfriend. Because there's nothing like something good-looking to make you ignore that inner voice that's telling you it's not a good fit.
In some ways the shoe example is the worst of all. At least most guys don't pinch you on the first date. When you're making slightly unladylike grunty noises trying to manhandle your, and I'm going to be a bit racial here, big, wide Māori feet into some pair of stilettoes probably designed with a willowy, elven, West European foot in mind I really do think that the self-deception required to actually believe that you may at some time wear these torture devices to a party and actually have an enjoyable experience doing so is close to psychotic. Since when does imprisoning your feet in the Bangkok Hilton of shoes engender a carefree attitude, or even a desire to dance, or stand for that matter?
So this is me people, saying, in a completely non-Destiny church kind of way, enough is enough. I'm sick of telling myself they'll be okay with innersoles or party feet. I'm not going to buy them because they'll look good with my favourite dress. From now on I'm going to listen to the voice of reason that says "Ow, ow, take them off!" This does not mean I am resigning myself to a life of old nana sandals but in future I will only part with money if the shoes in question actually feel like I might be able to wear them for more than five minutes without crying.
Hopefully I can start with shoes, work my way up to bras, and eventually boyfriends (presumably those that don't mind flat shoes and/or industrial strength undergarments).
So, how honest are you with yourself? Crazy levels of denial or down-to-earth and sensible? When you ignore that unerring inner voice?
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That's liberating. I am at the other end of the spectrum - Just add in an inner sole, a half inner sole, wear them with sturdy tights, add heel grips or thick socks and just maybe they'll fit. Oh no they won't. They will fly off my foot into oncoming traffic.
I would have liked to have been Imelda Marcos except that her shoes were vilious.
However today I'm wearing silver sequin vintage heels and dammit they fit. It is funky shoes-day after all and standards need to be maintained.
I lie to myself constantly. When chowing down on a KFC fillet pack with Cookies and Cream Krusher, I tell myself that I will "exercise it off later". I know I have no intention of doing this, but it makes me feel better!
Im also a shocker with bra's. The sizing on them is so awful that I would rather squeeze myself into one than admit that I am a lard-boobed freak. Plus, I convince myself that the cleavage muffin top is a hot look right now.
The big lie i told myself today was that biking wouldn't kill me, 2 hours later i think i can now go back out in public because my face is no longer resembling a beetroot! I believe everyone in my office is now aware of my complete lack of fitness! Shoes play a big part in my regime of lies. I have a beautiful pair of heels that I swear i will wear one day but that day just keeps getting further and further away. I have worn them once, to a job interview, i got the job and haven't been able to wear them since because i nearly killed myself on the way out of the interview. I am currently in the market for a few pairs of cute sandals for work and play and i need to find some that wont draw attention to the size of my ankles or width of my feet. number 1 shoes is my friend cause i can buy heaps of shoes and only wear a couple of pairs while admiring the others.
Is it the Hanoi Hilton?
"You'll see the same effect at work when a woman is considering her options when acquiring a new bra"
I can't say I've actually been privvy to the process of women at my work acquiring a new bra...
I have heard that having big feet is not so much a Māori thing as a New Zealand thing. Kids here tend to spend a lot of time barefoot and so their feet grow out naturally, the way god meant them to. Whereas children back in ye merrie Englande wear shoes all the time.
(still, it could be worse: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foot_binding ..)
Had one of those horrid 'Trinny&Sussanah' moments a couple of months ago. Went into bendons wearing a 12C happily convinced that I was amoung the special 15-20% of Women who actually know their bra size.... came out wearing a 10DD....
And do you know lotsa bra brands stop at D??!! Though I guess I have to begrudginly admit that my new bras are way more comfortable (and efficent)
Oh Moata how you delude yourself. You will never be able to resist the pretty shoes. There is hope though - I have ONE pair of pretty shoes that are comfy. Plenty more that aren't, but they're so pretty.
Funny thing is I seem to not have this problem with bras - mine are mostly all boring black because I HATE uncomfortable bras and the comfy ones are always in black.
The jury is still out on men.
I used to be a shoe-lier but, after some years in recovery (and a very painful ingrown toenail), I have accepted that I am a size 8. Actually, I used to wear towering platforms all the time - wedges were my best bud. Now, I've become seriously enamoured of the flat shoe - old age approaches but nothing is so comfy as my Chucks!
My lies are food lies - in that I buy fruit and veg every week that I end up throwing away. This is because otherwise my trolley would consist of bottles of wine and blocks of chocolate, plus a lot of red meat. I feel guilty, so I load up on leafy greens and crunchy veg. I feel so virtuous as I pay for everything. Then, I sneak it into the greenwaste recycling at the end of every week. Sad ...
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I'm still trying to learn that lesson and I'm waaaaay older than you. I must have spent thousands on ill-fitting shoes over the years. I have the bunions as evidence and they are not pretty. But, dammit, I see a pair of killer slingbacks and I HAVE to have them. Oh, the agony and the ecstasy.