(22) A True Story.

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dear mr & mrs bloggie…

 

Today I would very much like to talk about my obsession. With shoes, that is.

 

No, I’m not going to showcase the pictures of my shoes nor am I going to tell you the exact number that I own(ed). I can’t afford to have you mrs bloggie, rolling your eyes on me. Or saying “whatever!”, therefore I better be good, for your sake and mine.

 

See, when I was 16, fresh out from high school, I needed a job. I took whatever LUCK had to offer me, which sad to say, only one and make good with it.

 

A man, (my boss then) called me out of the blue asking whether I could start my job the very next day. Desperate for cash, my answer was yes!

 

1 January 2003 was the official date of my first real job. And marked the day that had changed my life forever….

 

From that day onwards, I gained not only in experience but also more in depth for my knowledge on shoes, or how to sell ‘em. My customers taught me how important it was to get just that perfect size or which part of the day’s best to shop. I learnt different colours to suit one’s skin. Best of all, I studied the art of lying. Ah…

 

Mind, I may not know half the designers out there but I do know Jimmy Choo is one of the gods.

 

Fascination soon turned to passion and every single time stocks arrived, I would get myself at least a pair. Getting discounts was a plus point to my growing collection. And I learnt it could induce a calming effect on the body and mind, mine at that.

 

Though, I insist on adding, at the rate I was going, I couldn’t compete with my manager then who owned like ten times more. *smiles in remembrance*

 

Years later, the shoes that I had purchased became a rack display. My favourites in one corner, the others to collect dust were stored in another. Why, you wonder now, did I write in past tense?

 

Aha. This is the reason for my entry.

 

A few months ago, my mother threw a big box of my shoes that she felt no longer held any purposes. In other words, she had gotten rid of my darling shoes that were moldy (or should I say dying state) together with the tattered ones. In all, more that ten pairs of shoes left me without saying goodbye.

 

Wait, lemme get my tissue, this part is getting a tad sentimental.

 

*breathes in breathes out*

 

I didn’t realize my mother’s evil deed until I bought a black dress that would go well with my black flats with some flower embroidery which I had gotten eons back.

 

When I asked my mother whether she had seen that black pair, she shrugged her shoulders indifferently and claimed she had them disposed.

 

Yes, me with my mother of all tantrums, need I say more?

 

After my first outburst, the storm soon subsided. Now, a few weeks back, I just got to know she threw another batch of shoes. Of mine!

 

The nerve!!!

 

I was so mad I wanted to cut the straps of her favorite pair just so I could get my revenge. Of course, I wasn’t that dramatic. Yet.

 

When she asked me, out of indignation, whether I could name the shoes she had thrown, that actually shut me up.

 

Reason being, I have not a single idea which ones she had dumped. I couldn’t at all. I was so used to wearing my favourite few pairs that I totally didn’t remember the rest. I didn’t even know whether she got rid of the ones under my bed, or the ones in the storeroom or those on the shoe rack.

 

And then I realized that all this time, I wasn’t mad at my mother. I was mad at myself. I had neglected my shoes and now, they had haunted me.

 

Shoes, I’m really sorry for using you but not appreciating you. Really, even if you did cause me blisters, you have done me great service by tolerating my smelly feet. I’ll be forever grateful. I swear.

 

Amin.

 

*wipes tears on her face*

 

Well, that said, my parents and I went shopping yesterday, my treat. I found out that my father now has expensive taste. Funny, it suddenly reminded me of Juls. Oh wait, I wonder why. Pffft. Nah, I won’t tell you what I bought for us. Later you accuse me of being ‘action’ then you’ll start rolling your eyes on me again!

 

-_-

 

Any-o-how mother and I were quite disheartened when we walked in and out of every shoe store empty handed. Yes, even Aldo was a disappointment.

 

It was getting late into the night and we were quite exhausted by then. Takashimaya shoe department was our last stop and it was closing in a few minutes time. We nearly gave up hope. What have you…. Our prayers were answered quite instantly.

 

We both laid eyes on the same pair of shoes and you should know how the rest of the story goes. One in size 38, one in size 40. We’re like two cats that got the cream that night. Howell.

 

We all went home a happy family.

 

The end.

 

 

 

cinta

fasyalba

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