My Best (Shoe) Friends

I used to have a large shoe collection. Not a Sarah Jessica Parker Shoe Collection but a significant enough one for someone who doesn't have a job. I had a big closet in my old apartment and the shoes and boots filled up both sides. I wouldn't go so far as to say that shoes were my life, because then my bags would feel left out, but shoes were a big part of it.

These are from my old apartment. I didn't get all of them in the shot because some wanted to remain anonymous. See the little red bottle in the middle shelf of the big shoe holder on the right? I kept the requisite shoe maintenance equipment with them at all times, in case of emergency. You never know when two shoes could break out in fisticuffs. And then where's that emergency repair kit? Exactly.

But then tragedy struck and I needed ankle surgery. I know; tragedy is usually not defined as anything that compromises your Loehmann's shopping trips but it was a tragedy to me. I suddenly was unable to hike. I could barely walk. There was something very wrong with my right foot. The doctor calmly informed me my right ankle had lost all its cartilage.

I said, "WHAT?" also.

He asked me how I did it, as if he expected me to reply I'd purposefully banged the heel of my right foot on a manhole cover over and over for 20 years. You know, like you do when you're in love. Or incarcerated with no chance of parole.

So he rebuilt my right heel and gave me an arch I didn't ask for. He gave me one anyway, even though my other foot didn't have one. Don't tell me I should have had a second opinion; he was my fourth opinion.

I find it interesting that my doctor didn't want to be photographed. This is what I looked like after the surgery. I couldn't walk for four months and yes, that was my scooter. FOR FOUR MONTHS.


Once I started walking again, my shoes became my enemy. I gave most of them away. I held shoe giveaways on this blog and cried at the post office while standing in line with my carefully wrapped packages. I'm sure most of them arrived waterlogged.

No more spiky heels, no more 5 inch boots. I eventually stopped looking for shoes. Stopped shopping in general. It was too depressing to find a great dress only to realize I'd have to look for amazing shoes and probably wouldn't find any that were easy to walk in and didn't hurt.

And then I discovered the Orthaheel.



The Fitflop from Sole Provisions had the orthaheel and comes in a ton of pretty summer color combos. See that built-in arch? I didn't NEED to have one installed in my foot - at a cost of $12,000 - had I discovered this shoe first. It's like walking on air.



And these I love love love. They remind me of the colors you'd see on an African Safari. Even though I've never been on an African Safari, the dark green and sand combo reminds me of one anyway. I might be thinking of Miami, though.

Dear women of America: You will sadly discover that as you age, (which I'm not, by the way) that neither your knees nor your ankles will support high heels anymore. Because bearing children and going through menopause isn't enough, apparently.



This was a sponsored post by the lovely people at Sole Provisions. All the above shoes can be found on their website plus many, many more. Go. Look. Buy.