Shoes, Glorious Shoes

I can’t believe I’m going to admit this to everyone stuck in this World Wide Web. But I’m going to. I don’t know why. I think it’ll be somewhat cathartic, like when you have to get up at an AA meeting and say, Hi my name is Tricia and I’m an alcoholic.

So here goes. Hi, my name is Tricia and I’m a shoeaholic. I cleaned out my shoes yesterday, and I am ashamed. See that photo? That is 64 pairs of shoes. 64. I am a stay at home, homeschooling mother with 64 pairs of shoes. How did things go so wrong? I thought I could quit buying shoes at any time I wanted. I thought I could at least get rid of old ones, but I was wrong. I have an illness. I am sick.



But yesterday with the help of my three girls, we went through all the shoes. I felt it was imperative for them to see the wrongness of someone owning 64 pairs of shoes and the carnage that ensues, and the suffering of the husband who has to share a closet with a wife with 64 pairs of shoes; they say it’s hereditary, you know.

So the girls matched up and lined up all my shoes. And yes, they had to try them all on first, several times. (Their poor husbands to be.)

Then I pointed and said, “Trash” or “give away” and the girls put them in the appropriate pile.

I was brutal ladies. I have excised myself of my shoe addiction. I got rid of all the shoes that don’t fit quite right, of all the ones that pinch or slide or are to high (I am incapable of handling heals, I will kill myself and possibly others If
I’m more than one inch off the ground) all of the ones that are old or have been replaced by a trendier version.



Ladies and gentleman…I’m down to a mere 34 pairs of shoes! My husband has been singing the hallelujah chorus all day.

Now If I can just stay away from the shoe department at Target for the rest of my life, I’ll be okay.