|A blurry pic of my Renaissance boots|
Zoom through Michaels, find nothing of interest in Ross, then to the shoe store. The cashier opened the door for me and I rolled on in. I wandered up and down the aisles, just looking at the pretty shoes but with a specific style in mind. I wanted some pretty casual shoes in a solid color that were slip-on...something that I can get on easily when I'm having a bad spine day (meaning that I don't need to bend over to put on or tie), but something that will stay on my foot unassisted (so no mules or slides) and don't slide around making walking or transferring dangerous. I ogled and fondled some pretty outrageous heels, but settled myself in the casual-but-not-athletic shoe aisle.
I'm slowly rolling down the aisle, grabbing shoes, poking at them for padding, sole texture, and fabric, trying some of them on, and a teenager gives me this look of "WTF" as if someone who uses a chair wouldn't go shoe shopping. I give her an equally incredulous look and go back to fondling a pair of shoes that end up fitting horribly on me (and have "toe cleavage," which is something I really do not like as a look). I get another couple odd looks from customers, which just baffles me.
I have feet, and I want to wear shoes on my feet, so I'm shoe shopping. What's so weird about this? Is it because I'm not dressed "femininely" in my grey jeans and black zip-up sweatshirt? If I was more easily pegged as femme, would it make my shoe shopping more "normal" and less queer? Or maybe I would still get those looks because displaying as femme is considered equally queer when visibly disabled?
I left with some comfy shoes in a dark grey that fit my requirements...I was hoping for black, but I'm happy. Maybe I'll stop getting weird looks at work for my ratty pink floral slip-ons or my running shoes :-)