For a little girl this was devastating. I wasn’t aware of having a foot problem.
Mothers notice these things though. The wear on my shoes indicated fallen arches, prompting mom to take action.
My parents did not have the income for specialty anything. So they may not have been any happier than I was.
I cannot recall going to a doctor to get his diagnosis or what should be done to correct my feet. Not to say it didn’t happen, my childhood memories are lacking.
I do clearly remember going to the store for corrective shoes. Looking back, I can see myself being a little bouncy. I didn’t get out too much, so even the shoe store was an adventure. It wasn’t a regular shoe store, but one that addresses various foot issues.
I made the salesman quite nervous, as he had one of his own feet in a surgical shoe, nothing like the surgical boots we see today. He feared that I might step on his foot. Not one to disappoint, I did, causing him a great deal of pain. Today I can still see him hobbling around the store moaning. That I can remember.
As our shopping experience continued, I was none too pleased with him either.
Back in the day, shoe stores had a stool with a small ramp. This provided a place for the salesman to sit as he/she tied the new shoe on. A service no longer available today. Before we even got to that point, he decided my foot needed tickling. That was far too personal for a stranger to do and made me wary of putting my other foot up.
Sadly, the shoes brought out for me to try on were all boy shoes. Ugly and black. I emphasize, at that time, I was not fashion conscious. Even then I thought they were fine for boys, but certainly not for a girl.
Today, I’m certain other kids would make an issue over my shoes. Bullying has come to the forefront of awareness in today’s society.
In my childhood though, many families were like mine. Middle class and striving to put food on the table and keep a roof overhead. I’m grateful that no one paid any attention to my shoes. Even in a trivial situation like this, I see God’s providing for a need and His mercy to not be made a spectacle of.
Unfortunately my fallen arches have stayed with me into adulthood. It’s a love, hate situation. There are so many cute shoes to be had and I have to wear something that an insert will fit in. If I go several hours without them, my feet begin to ache, so I’m grateful to have them…darn it!