Well, that’s a very personal question…
But, Internet, we’ve been friends for a long time so I feel comfortable sharing thins kind of information with you. So I will tell you.
My number is… *sigh*… 74.
Yes, you heard me. 74.
And don’t you dare judge me!
Albeit, some of those were rash decisions that ended painfully. Others seemed like love at first sight but then never panned out. And still others turned into wonderful long term relationships that gave me years of joy and happy memories. Each one was a reflection of who I was at different points in my life.
But I’m at a crossroads in my life and I’m finding that I am increasingly embarrassed by this rather… large number.
Thus I decided it was time to take action. I needed to reflect on my past and make some decisions. And I knew that this wouldn’t be easy, but these kinds of things seldom are.
So here we are.
First, I had to take stock of them all.
And I was hiding/storing 18 pairs under the bed.
Oh, and flip-flops… are we counting flip-flops? Ok, because there were 10 of those.
Then it was time to decide who would stay and who needed to go.
All of Closet #1 was safe. Those are the ones I wear on a regular basis.
Most of Closet #2 was safe, except for a few, as I wear those when I dress up for work (or internship, as will be the case this summer).
But those that were hiding out under the bed were in grave danger of being “booted”, as it were.
But before I gave them all the old heave-ho, I decided to take a moment to reflect on our time together.
Ah, Prom! What memories!
I’m getting rid of these because well… I like boys (also I don't play softball or wear flannel). And I think it’s time my footwear reflected that.
Every girl remembers her first. (Pair of Pumas, that is.)
These slip-on maroon sneakers went perfectly with my maroon CMU polo shirt and were PERFECT for my time as a campus tour guide at CMU… but not much else.
These (embarrassingly expensive) moccasins were love at first sight until I wore them for the first time, only to be told by a friend that they were the ugliest shoes he’d ever seen. That was the last time I wore them.
Believe it or not, I begged my mother for these shoes when I was still in High School. She asked where I would wear them. I told her, “Duh. Everywhere”. I guess I actually meant “Nowhere” because that’s really where I wore them.
These old gals have moved with me to FOUR different cities and apartments now and I refuse to give them up.
I dumped many more pairs than are pictured here.
Using the criteria of those that
- Instantly give me blisters (no matter HOW cute they are)
- Have gone more than 2 years without being worn
- Make me look like a lesbian
I was able to give myself a new number.
Drum roll please….
Oh wait… are we counting flip-flops? ...we are?
That may not seem like much progress, but I no longer store/hide ANY shoes under the bed! That’s a major improvement and I’m sure the dust bunnies are thrilled to have all the extra space.
So there you have it, Internet. I have shared my most personal secrets with you, yet again. You have allowed me to share this process with the world... and now you have shown me the nearest DSW, so that I may begin to rebuild.
Thank you, Interwebs. Thank you.