My inner child is aching for a flagrant act of footwear frippery.
When I was young, I was alleged to have thrown epic tantrums when taken to get new shoes.
This may have had to do with being measured by a stranger with a 'Hi, Can I Help You?' badge at Long Island's Start Rite or the fact that my mother, ever the practical soul, would insist on buying mine a size bigger so that I'd grow into them.
I must have had some precognition that my freakish growing foot was only getting started and so the histrionics ensued.
I would throw myself prostrate on the floor like Maria Callas in a rendition of Tosca as my mortified mother attempted to retrieve my flailing body.
Today, as a card-carrying member of the big foot club (EU42), finding my lesser-spotted size in anything other than a boot or pair of sneakers is as easy as singing a verse of 'Vedi, Ecco, Vedi’ backwards.
I couldn't hold a tune if it were taped to the palm of my hand, so you get the picture.
Struggle Olympics aside, event season is upon us, folks, and I have a big shindig to attend.
Yep, you guessed it.
It’s time to go shoe shopping.
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