Confessions of a shoeaholic

On the weekend, I went to not one, but two shoe sales.  Well the second one was technically a boot sale.  But yeah.  Footwear sales, if you will.  I’m not going to tell you how many pairs I bought or how much money I spent.  Let’s just say I may have gone a little crazy and I may end up on a future episode of Hoarders or Intervention.

A while ago, I was thinking about how a lot of people have 365 days of blogging type blogs.  One in particular is 365 Days of Dining.  That would have been my dream job.  Except that I write more about shoes than I do about food.  I considered the possibility of writing a 365 days of shoes blog.  Each day, I would post pictures of a different pair of shoes, describe them, and maybe talk about where/when I bought them, or a memory of one of the times I’ve worn them.  I’m not sure how many pairs of shoes I own.  Not 365.  But if I run out, I could always start taking pictures of other people’s shoes, or shoes that I see in a store.

The problem is, I’ve barely had time lately to write regular posts on this blog.  And that one time I attempted to start another blog, it failed.  I mean I did start a blog where I wrote about TV shows and movies but it only lasted four months because it was just impossible to keep up.  I would imagine a shoe blog would be easier to manage, seeing as I already have the shoes so half the work is already done.

I likely won’t pursue this idea because I know I probably won’t have time for it.  Also I’m sure if I were to do it, you would judge me.  You know, even more than you already do now.  Which I’m fine with.  My friend who accompanied with me to both shoe sales doesn’t judge me because our friendship is based upon no judgement.  Although I’ve realized that can be a dangerous thing if you happen to have an addictive personality.  She’s pretty much my enabler.  If she hadn’t driven me to Army & Navy and helped me carry my bags, I would not have been able to make the purchases that I did.

boots

Boots at the Army & Navy boot sale

As I sit here now, I’m not even wearing my new shoes or boots yet.  I’m wearing my old ones.  Which I love.  But the reason I’m not wearing new ones is because a lot of them are still sitting in the trunk of her car.  Because I couldn’t bring them all into the house at once because I didn’t want my family to see them.  When you start to hide things, is that the sign of a problem?  My friend said she would start calling me Imelda Marcos now and I informed her that my dad has been calling me that for years.  I’ll just blame it on Shoe Warehouse, my second mall job, because it was when I worked there that my love for shoes emerged into the chaotic mess it is today.

My friend who doesn’t judge me almost thought of staging an intervention.  But she decided against it since that would have been a form of judgement.  I guess when someone who doesn’t judge you wants to stage an intervention, that’s the sign of a problem.  But I’m not at the acceptance stage yet.  I think I’m still just in denial.  Which is an okay place to be.  I’m not sure what rock bottom looks like.  Perhaps it’s when I start going to sales by myself and buy more than I can carry?  Or when I fall and become buried under a pile of my own shoes and can’t escape?  Or when my Visa gets declined because I’ve maxed it out on shoes?  But none of those things have happened.  Yet.

At this point, I have cut myself off.  No more shoes.  Or boots.  Especially boots.  I bought a lot of boots.  I may force myself to return a couple pairs.  I felt total judgement was upon me the entire time I was shopping, both from the employees and from the other customers.  But I didn’t care.  Nothing mattered except the good deals I was getting on my boots.  And I justified it by the fact that some people spend a few hundred dollars on one pair, while I was getting several pairs at $50 or less per pair.  That makes sense, right?

We really should have gone to Army & Navy first.  If we had, I would have bought less at the shoe sale in Burnaby.  Or probably not even have gone to it.  But I was informed about it by friends and so I attended the shopping event at Gizeh Shriners Hall.  At first, I was complaining about the lack of size 8’s.  But then I proceeded to locate every size 8 I possibly could.  Let’s just say, these were not my proudest moments.  Saturday was an expensive day.

shoes

Shoes at the Burnaby shoe sale

But yes.  I am cut off.  No more footwear.  Unless it’s socks.  I’m always in need of more socks.  And that’s not an obsession, that’s just a necessity, since I’m constantly losing pairs every time I do laundry.  And I don’t think anyone ever went into debt from buying too many socks.  Although watch me somehow be the first.  But I’m not in debt and I will pay my Visa bill on time and I will refrain from buying anymore shoes or boots for a while.  I could probably get away with not buying anymore ever.  But for now I’ll just see how long I can wait.  Anyone want to place any bets on how long I can go without buying new shoes?  I promise if I win the bet, I won’t spend the money on footwear.

Commuting, decision making, shoes sales, & babies

I had to run across the street this morning to make it to the bus. Well I didn’t have to. I could’ve just missed it. But that would have screwed up the rest of my commute. A small price to pay, I suppose. Although I was kind of out of breath after. But I did not pant and breathe heavily as others often do. Why am I so out of shape? Maybe I need to start going to the gym again. Or just continue to run for buses. I’m guessing they both have the same sort of effect.

It’s a nice day today. Finally, no need for a jacket. I would really love to wear sandals, but am unable to because of work. I was going to bring a pair of flip flops with me, as I may go to a shoe sale later. But of course I forgot. Oh well. I think Resa, author of the blog Queen’s End, would appreciate a picture of the shoes I am currently wearing.  Nothing fancy, but they’re comfortable and they’re hi-tops.  Although you can’t tell, as my pant legs are covering them.

I have a dilemma. Well, a first world problems dilemma. There’s an Orb clothing sale today. And there’s a designer shoe sale today. I cannot attend both, as I will be at work and will barely have enough time to stop by one. They’re both in different places in Richmond, neither one more convenient than the other. How do I decide? I know I have already attended both an Orb sale and a shoe sale within the past couple months. And so you’d probably tell me not to attend either and to exercise some self control for once. But I feel as though it’s expected of me to go. And to follow it up with a blog post filled with a confusing mix of awesomeness, excitement, and regret.

I feel like a few people were staring at me on the Canada Line. This one older lady in particular. Perhaps because of my shirt. It’s the one that says “Keep Calm and Buy Shoes” in big letters across it. I think perhaps by deciding to wear this shirt, I kind of made my decision as to which sale I’ll be attending. Or maybe not. The other day I wore my “Keep Calm and Have a Cupcake” shirt and I did not in fact eat a cupcake that day. Misleading, I know.

Oh God, the guy across from me just sneezed really loudly & disgustingly. That was out of the blue and completely uncalled for. He’s also like flapping his legs. I can’t really explain it. But he’s sitting with his legs wide apart and then moving them in and out. And it resembles wings flapping. Why is he doing that? What purpose could it possibly serve? Is this some sort of weird exercise I don’t know about? That helps with…something? Now he’s tapping each foot, one after the other, neither one at the same time. I guess he’s just sort of restless? Either way, it’s annoying.

On the Canada Line earlier, I decided to do something I’d never done before. Okay, not true. Something I rarely do, especially in the mornings. I walked to the back of the train. Not the very back, but in that area. Because I thought maybe there were seats there. But I was sadly mistaken. There was however, more standing room. I normall like to be at the very front, or wherever’s closest to the escalator so I can get the hell out of the station as fast as possible. But I had enough time this morning that it didn’t really matter.

One stop before my stop, a woman with a baby carriage got on and stood next to me. Or a stroller I guess. Does anyone call them baby carriages anymore? Is there a difference? Anyway, I’m not a baby person. Like, if you think I’m awkward around adults, it’s way worse with babies. I don’t know what to say or what to do or how to act. Sometimes I think I’m dead inside, cause when someone brings a baby somewhere, everyone else will crowd around & be all like “Hi!” “Oh my God you’re so cute!” and various random baby talk things. And I’ll just sort of be there.

Today, as this baby was looking around, it looked at me. And I looked back. I didn’t say anything. What am I supposed to say? It’s a baby. I didn’t make a funny face or sound or anything. But I decided I would smile at him and see what happens. And lo and behold it, he actually smiled back. Who would have thought? Naturally, I just expected that he would continue to stare, look confused, and then lose interest. But he smiled at me a few times and seemed to be enjoying himself. Perhaps I’m not completely dead inside after all? Or maybe he just thought I looked funny?

I think being the oldest of five kids has generally make me dislike kids. But the smile of that baby may have restored my faith for a moment. But then I went down the stairs and saw the entire station pretty much was filled with parents and small yelling children. And that just totally brought me back to reality. No idea why they were there or where they were going. And I don’t care. Not my problem. Thank God.

So that was my morning. And my thought process during it. Parts of it anyway. I think the baby smiling at me contributed to me being in a slightly better mood than normal. But you know, it was countered by all the annoying people I encountered afterwards. But it’s okay, because shopping tonight may just lift my spirits once again.