What Was I Thinking?

I am embarrassed to admit it, but I did once purchase the shoes in the picture, and it was some time in the last decade. I know that because, at the same impulsive moment, I purchased the same shoes (in shades of pink) for my daughter, and I'd like to think she was older than twelve when this happened.

Over the years, I've put together countless black garbage bags full of clothing and shoes for charity, yet, each time, these shoes have escaped the pile. I have held them in my hands, turned them every which way, wondering how on earth I ever fit my "ugly stepsister" feet into them. I'm pretty sure I wore them once, on vacation, where it was unlikely I'd run into anyone I knew. Although I can't really remember vacationing in West Virginia any time within the last ten years.

Last night, the shiny blue shoes with the clownish polka dots on the wedge were in the crosshairs as I filled up a bag of old stuff for this morning's pick up. It was time. Frankly, it's time for ninety per cent of what is in my closet, but sometimes I'm just not ready to pull the trigger. Occasionally it's a sentimental block; somebody important gave it to me, or an item reminds me of a particularly poignant moment. Usually, though, it's pure delusion. Despite the fact I haven't worn an item for years, I harbor some fantasy that I will some day. Maybe because it's a tad bit too small and I think I will somehow shrink, maybe because I truly believe an occasion will arise that just screams for that "good as new" item that I never really liked but must have purchased for a reason. It's irrational, I know, but I hardly think that's out of character.

I gave the crazy blue shoes a serious look before tossing them in the bag last night. There is no question in my mind that I will never again wear them, will never find myself wishing they were still there in my closet as a perfect accessory to some bizarre outfit. But it's that distant memory that stops me every time -- that almost stopped me again. The one of me and my daughter, giggling by the table of Coach shoes, thinking how much fun it would be to have a matched set. I wonder if she still has hers. Frankly, I think she got about as much wear out of them as I did, but maybe she, too, has held on to them all these years out of pure sentimentality.

I comfort myself with the thought of future shopping trips. It's always possible to make new memories, even if all you end up with in the shopping bag is a pair of sensible shoes.