Shoe Fetish

Cinderella Cinderella

She has no time to ponder, She has no time to sit

How would she know, what’s her fit ?

Until one evening, touched by the magical wand of possibilities

She realized there is life beyond her adversities.

 

Oh, then there is another lady from my slumber book

She was just obsessed with herself, that made her a crook.

She is lady Cruela Di Vil

Seeking perfection, she is ready to kill.

 

I dwindle between the ideas of – always putting oneself in other’s shoes Vs the other extreme of having a “shoe fetish”.

When I get into other’s shoes, I  hardly care about my fit. My fit, to a large extent becomes insignificant to me. There is even a possibility that in due course  of time, my own shoe might bite me back because I ignored it for a long time.

The other extreme is having a shoe fetish that takes me anywhere and everywhere in search of “my perfect fit”. My shoe fetish keeps me in the blind spot, and I overlook the bare foot folks right next to me.

Follow any extremes, or be somewhere in between – It’s a choice. But make sure the choice isn’t forced upon, or the joy it brings is not shallow.

The Pajama Fit

old_couple

I see my pretty little red dress hanging in my wardrobe, reminding me of the few  (and far in-between) “wow” moments.  It has not been picked up for a while now- not because there wasn’t an occasion to wear it, but because it’s a high demand relationship with my little red dress. I need to be  in my “best shape”, else we do not go well together. This high maintenance relationship demands me to “handle it with care” and “dry clean” only. I  also need to make sure to wear the right co-ordinates that goes well with it – the right shoes and the right accessories.  As I flaunt it, I consciously or  subconsciously stay away from any “spillage causing agents”, and that sometimes includes my own kids.

When I get back home, the first thing I would want to do is to get out of this “high maintenance relationship” with my awesome pretty little red dress . I am eager to be back in my pajama, stretch out, take a deep breath and just be me.

Aren’t the most enduring relationships like the pajama fit – one that you always want to get back to? The one that gives you enough breathing space, and accepts the fact that as a person you may not be your perfect-self everyday. The one that is not pressurizing you to “always” handle it with care. But for some reason we also tend to take our “pajama fit relationships” for granted.

Those pictures in the pretty little pricey red dress is guaranteed to get a lot of “likes”,  but at the end of the day we all yearn to go back to our pajamas.