Sunday, February 22, 2009
As if that were not enough, I had to wear orthopedic shoes as a kid and my dad used to take me to some cobbler's shop down in the middle of nowhere, and the guy was sort of toad-like and on top of that, had oral cancer or something so he used to talk and breathe through a stoma. Here is a picture of a trach tube because any pictures I could find that even resembled this guy's stoma were just so soul-harming.
Anyway, my father did not even bother to warn me so I walked into the stoma cobbler situation completely cold. The whole experience was startling as a kid. As if it were not bad enough to have to wear blue suede reinforced steel saddle shoes.
That, coupled with the whole Margaret's Corset Shop experience, pretty much sealed my fate as a supernerd.
Sarah should kiss my (feet, ass, ring) for taking her to Target, I tell ya.
3 comments:
Well, yes, I can see that your childhood was very traumatized by parents who were trying to accommodate your needs. In retrospect, a pair of flip flops (had they been available) would have been more suitable shoes for you. I don't even want to tell the story of the orange shoes that I had to wear in junior high because Grandpa brought them home and said they were "the latest color". Maybe in Hong Kong, not St. Louis. I will have to ask Sarah in a few years of her impressions of your shopping expeditions.
Mom, lighten up. It's just Shelley's blog. Sheesh. We appreciate you blahblahblah
Yes I remember the story about the organge shoes. I also remember giving myself bruises with my own pair of blue suede steel reinforced babies while crossing my legs.
I'm sure I am causing Sarah some sort of irreparable harm and that I will hear all about it in 10 years on whatever form of electronic outlet is available to human beings at that point. And you know what? I HOPE SO because that's what growing up is all about! Even though we are all adults now, you are always going to be Our Mother and that comes with saintly and deadly territory. That is the burden of being Mom.
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