Today I ordered shoes online. Three-inch heels. A purple pair. And another, goldenrod yellow. Such extravagance.
I am not normally the sort of person that revels in retail. Usually, I give my spirits a boost by seeking nature, not Nordstrom’s: the sun on my skin, bird calls, an array of wildflowers or beautiful leaves.
But today, as I was surfing the internet in bed, a shoe store ad appeared in my inbox. I felt compelled to indulge. The effort and strain of going to a store does not appeal these days, but I felt great satisfaction clicking through the pages and hitting the “complete order” button.
You have to understand that shoes have not been fun lately. Ever since a tick bite a couple of years ago, I’ve had a stabbing pain in my left foot. It seemed to be a nerve inflamed by bunion pressure. But now I am not so sure, now that I know I have lyme. The foot pain flares when other lyme symptoms do; it is the one symptom that has remained constant as others ebbed and flowed, flared and faded.
The podiatrist gave me custom orthotics and told me to stay out of heels; I gave most of mine away and bought expensive, practical, unlovely sandals made by a running company. But improvement in my foot pain came only when I started antibiotics for lyme.
So today as I lie in my bed working on my computer, my cheerful thought is that the treatment will ultimately fix my poor foot along with the rest of me. So I can get out of flats and back to strappy, three-inch heels.
I place the order for pretty footwear, and I can see myself walking straight and tall instead of scrabbling along limping and hunched in pain. I can imagine walking easily down city sidewalks, feeling strong and independent again in sexy, feminine heels.
And for once, I don’t mind calling myself a material girl.