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Monday, April 23, 2012

I'm The One In The Orange Shoes

 My mother had six sons before I was born, so naturally, I grew up wearing pink.  She made all my clothes, which, as I learned later, caused those who did not know me, to think I was a little rich kid. She was a very good seamstress, and I was her Barbie doll, so I was well dressed. But, she rarely strayed from pink.

 Like every child, I eventually rebelled, and wanted to dress myself. We were out shopping for Easter shoes, one Saturday, and I found the perfect pair. They were orange patent leather, and the shiniest things you ever saw. She, of course said no, but I insisted. My mom saw this as a learning experience, a chance for me to feel the misery of failure. So, she finally agreed to the purchase, all the while knowing, my Easter dress was pink.
 Now, in those days , I, like most kids, had one pair of shoes. Yes, I got them for Easter, but they would be worn to church, school, and to play. This was the first of many poor choices in footwear, I would make in my life.
  Once, my friend, Ivy and I were looking at old photos. When we came to the group picture of my fourth grade class, she started to laugh. She told me how she, and her older sister Tracy, would make fun of me in my orange shoes. When I came over to their house, Tracy would say, "Here comes Sheila in her orange shoes". Well, it no longer hurts my feelings. The shoes were bright orange and begged to be laughed at. After all, it's not like Tracy ever wore my training bra on her head or scrubbed her dresser drawers with my toothbrush.......Oh wait, she did do that.

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A wife, mother, and spoiler of small dogs, I grew up in a small West Texas town, with my eyes full of sand, and my heart full of joy.


white punks