Stepping Out

I couldn’t shop online because I didn’t know my size. That information had rubbed off the inside of my old sneakers years ago. So I needed to find a shoe store. After a lot of unproductive mall walks, I discovered what I really needed to find was a sporting goods store. One whose inventory included something referred to as Active Wear. Whose sales staff knew something about their stock. And there was somewhere to sit down.

When I found the right place, I discovered there aren’t just running shoes anymore. No, there are many different types of Active Footwear. The salesperson said to me, “You look like the kind of person who might overpronate. Do you have a record of overpronating?” I didn’t know how to answer the question and said, “Maybe. Sometimes.” She had me stand on one foot, one then the other, so she could see the soles of each shoe. “Impossible to tell from these poor things,” she said. “Our best solution today is to find you a pair of All Arounds. Sit over there, take off your old shoes and we’ll try on some new ones.”

I had forgotten about this part. The trying on part. It had been a while, Tuesday maybe Monday, since I had changed my socks. I requested privacy. The salesperson looked at me as though I may have friends in flying saucers, but walked away far enough so that Tuesday’s, or Monday’s, smell wouldn’t carry.

“These fit,” I said as quickly as I could. “I’ll take them.” Into the box the new shoes went. I paid and made my way home. Triumphant. I would show them off to all those soiree people. No more laughs and snorts from that bunch. No sweat. Now for me it was one way, left lane, top down, green lights all the way.

When I got home, I held my new shoes up to the light and admired them. Lovely things they were, really. Then the hard part. My old shoes, my old friends. Just before I placed them in the box and lowered them into a clean trash bag, I took a photo of them and began using it as my screen saver.

I’d decided. No need to show my new shoes off to anyone else. Looking down at them, I knew I had already been transformed into a mover and a shaker.

A person of considerable reputation. A person who changes his socks.