Inglorious
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run outside with your socks on?" That's what a gentleman facetiously asked as he walked by me the other day. I was pushing my cart down the sidewalk, just motoring along in my socks, minding my own business. Mom happened to be walking behind me. I could tell she was a little concerned about the fact that I had been destroying socks at a rate of a pair per day. What's a guy to do? I don't want to go barefoot in an urban setting. Sheesh.
Sure, we had discussed shoes. The selection available at our local BX (military's version of a Wal-Mart--only we wish it were a Wal-Mart!) is quite limited, especially for midgets like me. For the past few weeks, we had been scoping out some potential pairs, hoping that I could hold out until reaching California this summer. The BX had a whopping total of one style, 10 sandals total, only 1 of which was a size remotely close to something I could wear.
Yesterday, Mom came to the realization that I had to have some shoes. It was necessity.
I take it that first pairs of shoes are supposed to be something "special." And, I gather that buying a first pair of shoes is supposed to be accompanied by much bravado -- picture-taking, congratulatory hand-shaking, a diploma perhaps, a complimentary gift basket with mole-skin and odor-eaters... Well, my occasion will be most memorable because it lacked a (D) all of the above.
We strolled into the BX and went straight to the one rack -- actually the one ten inch hanger with ten sandals dangling from it. We found the one pair that would somewhat fit, and Mom put it on my foot. "Mom, it fits! Done." Nope. She handed me the sandals to hold. Apparently, the BX had just received a shipment of some more infant-type footwear. Exciting! She found "baby" shoes for non-walkers. She found hard-soled tennis shoes for "pro-walkers." She picked up the hard-soled shoes. They had my size. She put them on. "Mom, it fits! Done!" Nope. She found another pair that had potential. I could tell she really wanted to buy them for me. They were perfect -- gel-soles, cool red lace type thingies. But, the size was off. She put them on anyway. "Mom, it fits!! DONE!!!!" Nope. She took a pair and found an employee. She asked for my size. No luck.
In the end, she took the sandals out of my hand and put one on my right foot. She checked the size again, and with a sigh, she said, "Oh well. Done." This is when she noticed that I had gotten hungry and devoured half of the large round tag on the shoes. She left the right sandal on; the left one dangled on the plastic ring beside it. As for the tag, it was no longer attached to the shoes. It was now a sopping wet four-inch circle of bite marks.
As we approached the cashier, Mom just pointed to the shoes, held up the tag, and said, "I'll hold. You scan." Luckily, I hadn't munched through the UPC. While Mom was doing this, a friendly Korean lady saw that I had on my shoe, and she got really excited. She loudly and excitedly asked for a pair of scissors. She cut the plastic ring holding the shoes together and tried to get my other shoe on.
I have shoes!! Blue sandals! They're a size 3. No making fun of my less than monstrous feet. I tested them out at the playground, and I had to adjust. They're a little long. I wore them today in a field and on some pavement. Mom won't let me wear them in the house.
I like my first pair of shoes. It was an inglorious occasion for Mom but a glorious one for me. When all is said and done, I think I will try to convince Mom and Dad to have these sandals set in gold. Bling! Bling!!!
Sure, we had discussed shoes. The selection available at our local BX (military's version of a Wal-Mart--only we wish it were a Wal-Mart!) is quite limited, especially for midgets like me. For the past few weeks, we had been scoping out some potential pairs, hoping that I could hold out until reaching California this summer. The BX had a whopping total of one style, 10 sandals total, only 1 of which was a size remotely close to something I could wear.
Yesterday, Mom came to the realization that I had to have some shoes. It was necessity.
I take it that first pairs of shoes are supposed to be something "special." And, I gather that buying a first pair of shoes is supposed to be accompanied by much bravado -- picture-taking, congratulatory hand-shaking, a diploma perhaps, a complimentary gift basket with mole-skin and odor-eaters... Well, my occasion will be most memorable because it lacked a (D) all of the above.
We strolled into the BX and went straight to the one rack -- actually the one ten inch hanger with ten sandals dangling from it. We found the one pair that would somewhat fit, and Mom put it on my foot. "Mom, it fits! Done." Nope. She handed me the sandals to hold. Apparently, the BX had just received a shipment of some more infant-type footwear. Exciting! She found "baby" shoes for non-walkers. She found hard-soled tennis shoes for "pro-walkers." She picked up the hard-soled shoes. They had my size. She put them on. "Mom, it fits! Done!" Nope. She found another pair that had potential. I could tell she really wanted to buy them for me. They were perfect -- gel-soles, cool red lace type thingies. But, the size was off. She put them on anyway. "Mom, it fits!! DONE!!!!" Nope. She took a pair and found an employee. She asked for my size. No luck.
In the end, she took the sandals out of my hand and put one on my right foot. She checked the size again, and with a sigh, she said, "Oh well. Done." This is when she noticed that I had gotten hungry and devoured half of the large round tag on the shoes. She left the right sandal on; the left one dangled on the plastic ring beside it. As for the tag, it was no longer attached to the shoes. It was now a sopping wet four-inch circle of bite marks.
As we approached the cashier, Mom just pointed to the shoes, held up the tag, and said, "I'll hold. You scan." Luckily, I hadn't munched through the UPC. While Mom was doing this, a friendly Korean lady saw that I had on my shoe, and she got really excited. She loudly and excitedly asked for a pair of scissors. She cut the plastic ring holding the shoes together and tried to get my other shoe on.
I have shoes!! Blue sandals! They're a size 3. No making fun of my less than monstrous feet. I tested them out at the playground, and I had to adjust. They're a little long. I wore them today in a field and on some pavement. Mom won't let me wear them in the house.
I like my first pair of shoes. It was an inglorious occasion for Mom but a glorious one for me. When all is said and done, I think I will try to convince Mom and Dad to have these sandals set in gold. Bling! Bling!!!
Navy Blue Sandals -- Worn Two Days Through Rugged Terrain
Yesterday, I walked and walked and walked behind my cart.
Today, I walked and walked and walked behind my cart. My cart went off-roading.
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