Over the weekend, the girl’s feet grew again. She’s passed me up; now wearing a size 11 shoe. I said, “Prince has a song where he says, ‘act your age, not your shoe size.’ I guess that doesn’t really apply here.”
I won’t tease her about it (too much) because of my mother. My mom wore a size 10 when she was about 13 years old. She’s told me the story many times, about going to the shoe store and having some insensitive moron of a shoe salesman tell her, “If your feet get any bigger, you’ll have to wear the shoebox.”
She’s been carrying around that story for 60 years.
So when my daughter had her feet measured over the weekend, the salesperson suggested she look at mens’ shoes (we were shopping for basketball shoes). My daughter was mortified. She obliging tried on a giant pair of Nikes but wanted to go home and research pink basketball shoes online. We did, but didn’t buy any yet because what she liked was a pair for $110. That’s a bit much for someone whose feet I’m not certain are done growing.
At coffee Monday morning, my friend told me about a friend of hers whose daughter wears a size 13. When her daughter needs dress shoes, the mom shops at a resale store in downtown Charlottesville, that carries the castoffs of local crossdressers. Who else has a need for size 13 pumps? So, C’villians, where is this store? We may need to shop with the crossdressers, soon.