Ugly Shoes

I remember the first time I saw them. They were royal blue and came strolling into Algebra class on the feet of my friend Elizabeth. “My goodness,” I thought, “Those certainly are some horrible-looking shoes. They look like they were taken straight off the space shuttle and put on her feet. They look like astronaut shoes. I’d hate to be caught wearing shoes like that.”

As time passed, I saw more and more of those Ugly Shoes—first on campus, then more frequently I began to see them on the feet of people that were not schlepping college students. They came in all sorts of colors: red, blue, green, pink, black, and many colors in between. I became a bit intrigued by them. If someone that looked otherwise respectable was willing to be seen in public with shoes that ugly on their feet, there must be a reason other than fashion to wear them.

Several weeks ago, we were visiting Sara in Chattanooga. During our shopping marathon, she found those awful shoes on clearance sale at Target. The rest of us grossed out at their ugliness, but Sara bought a pair anyway. When we arrived back at Sara’s place, we all tried the shoes on, and I discovered what I had been suspicious of all along—they are comfortable. Later that afternoon we went back to Target and three more of us got our own pair of schlepping shoes.

My feet love ‘em. I declare that if my feet had voice boxes, they would sing me a lovely Celtic song each time I wear my Ugly Shoes. My right heel has this tendency to be an unhappy right heel, but in my Ugly Shoes, my heel is almost happy. I can definitely stay on my feet longer without my foot becoming contrary quite so soon.

For the most part, I have restricted my Ugly Shoes to home wear. After all, I do want to preserve my public persona, but the other night at the eleventh hour (literally) I needed to make a quick jaunt to Wal-mart for some NoDoz (lest I repeat my Tuesday dozing performance in class the next morning). My Ugly Shoes were very handy and, given the hour of night, I decided to take a chance at slipping in and out of Wal-mart unseen by any acquaintances. I beat the odds and made my trek through Wal-mart without recognizing a soul. Can you believe it?!?! I wore Ugly Shoes to Wal-mart!

I’ve been wanting to wear them other places now that I’ve taken that first step. It’s like the corners of my Ugly Shoe conscience have been rounded. I feel like I might need to join Ugly Shoes Anonymous.

“My name is Sharon, and I wore Ugly Shoes to Wal-mart.”