In her shoes

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After this weekend’s writing extravaganza, it was time to go back to my day job. All of my notebooks are back in my handbag, so I can jot any juicy ideas I might have during the day.

I had a full day meeting starting at 08h00 this morning (one of the photos above shows what 07h30 looks like these days), and since the public transport connections to the hotel where the meeting was taking place is absolutely dreadful, I decided to take the tram to a certain point, and then walk half of the way along the lake. I did this in flats, and carried my high heels in my bag to change them once I got to the hotel.

I think I only ever had one pair of high heels that allowed me to walk that kind of distance (the respectable distance of 1.3 km) in them – they were the first “good” pair of shoes I ever bought, almost five years ago. I was still at university, and was about to embark on my first job hunt. I already had a few interviews lined up, and needed to make sure I looked like someone you might want to hire, not so much someone fresh out of university and scared of her own shadow.

When I tried them on the first time, I hated them – I thought the heels were too low, too chunky, and that the shoes were too “old” for me. The Angry Chef patiently explained that these were the perfect work shoes – well made, neutral and wouldn’t kill my feet. The high heels I was used to wearing would attract a lot of attention in an office setting, and wouldn’t look very professional – at least not in the line of business I was pursuing. As a young woman starting out on my first job, I should wait for people to get to know me and once I felt more comfortable and more confident with what I was doing, I could take a chance with different shoes and different clothes.

I hated when he was right. Still do.

This year, after wearing them perhaps too often, and having travelled everywhere with them, it was time to replace them. The heels are scratched, there are some scratches on the leather, which has also begun to crack, and the soles have been re-done twice. Ok, three times.

I bought a new, shiny pair to replace them. Then another, just to be on the safe side. I know it’s a very materialistic way to look at it, but I can’t bring myself to give them away. It’s not about how much I grew to love these shoes – it’s about holding on to something that entered you my life during a time of change, and helped me grow up a bit. I’m pretty sure this is the equivalent to a grown up security blanket. I’m also pretty sure it’s time to let them go.

So today was time to take one of the replacements for a spin. It seems promising. I guess I’ll only know once I’ve walked a mile in them.

Apologies for getting a bit off topic – don’t we all just need a break, sometimes? At the end of the day, the thing that does it for me is telling the story. And I just told you one about the journey of a pair of shoes. Not bad for a day’s work.

I didn’t manage to do any writing whatsoever after getting home from work – still at yesterday’s 6,744 words. Really hoping I’ll get to 10,000 by next Sunday. Do you think I can?

Have a nice evening and thanks for reading!


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