Shoe Confessions

Anyone want to guess how many pairs of shoes I own? Anyone?

Let me start by saying that Trey reminds me quite often of the fact that when we got married I had three pairs of shoes - black dress shoes, brown dress shoes, and tennis shoes. I was poor, just out of college, and had not yet discovered the joy of footwear.

Then somewhere along the way I realized that everything looks better with fabulous shoes. The perfect 3 inch, spike heeled, pointy-toe shoe gives you power. The exact color turqoise of a favorite blouse mimicked in a shoe says, "I am a put-together kind of person" (whether I really am or not). My Aggie crocs say that I have a beautiful yard and I worked hard for it.

I love shoes with personality. Shoes that look like something a little old lady would wear are kind of fun and silly. Shoes with the right kind of heel serve as a warning against attackers - careful, or I might remove my heel and kill you with it! Shoes are just plain exciting. I particularly love unusual, fabulous shoes.

So the floor of my closet has looked like it belongs to a person with a shoe problem. I haven't been able to reach in and grab a pair of shoes for months. In fact, when I need to wear a particular pair, I just find one of them and then send one of the boys into the abyss to hunt down the other one. Like our own little son/mommy diva match game. How sweet.

Today I finally bought a shoe rack and got organized. I threw away five pairs of shoes that were completely worn out (those won't be included in the total you see later). I matched up all of the keepers and placed them neatly side by side. It's a glorious vision, truly it is.

And then I counted. Just for grins, I mean. I was curious. Exactly how many shoes are there? How far have I come from the person with three pairs?

The answer: too far. The number of shoes I own is kind of repulsive. I could wear a different pair of shoes each day for over a month and never repeat. I cringe at the thought of the money I've spent on those shoes. It's a little sickening.

But I love them. I am that shallow. Ugh. It's a sad thing to notice about yourself. Shallowness. Materialism. Shoe obsession. I hope I'll have the sense to think twice before I buy another pair. They should at least be on sale and so incredible that even a clueless old guy would notice them and comment on their insane fabulousness.

Along those lines, but different lines, Trey has job prospects. He has an offer he has not officially accepted yet, and things around here are about a billion times less tense than they were last week, so thanks for all your kind words and prayers.

Something like losing a job really makes you think about what you spend your money on. Trey and I 0ften joke that we eat most of our money. I don't cook, so if food isn't microwave-ready we have to get it at a restaurant. Now I'll have to say that I eat and walk on our money. Hmmm...that's a little sad, isn't it. I think I'm feeling convicted here.

Anyway, what's my number? Forty-six. I own forty-six pairs of shoes, that's not including the five pair that I trashed today because they were worn out. That's ninety-two individual shoes. From three to forty-six pairs in just under eight years. Ridiculous, isn't it?

Now go to your closet and count. You know you want to!