Ugged

I loathe shoes. A native Californian, I wore them as infrequently as possible. I spent most of my childhood barefoot, despite my mother's well-intentioned warnings about rusty nails, tetanus shots, gangrenous infections that would result in the loss of toes, and worse. After actually stepping on a rusty nail that protruded from a discarded, weatherbeaten two-by-four, whilst wearing Keds, the sole of which offered no protection whatsoever from the nail that went right through it and into my foot, I decided shoes were definitely a waste of time. I usually removed them as quickly as possible as soon as I was out of my mother's sight.

When my feet grew to size 9 1/2 by the time I was 12, shoes were more bothersome than ever, especially finding them to fit. Women with size 9 1/2 feet were not that common then, whereas today, size 9 is the new size 7 - everyone wears a 9. Back in the day, shoes went from size 9 to size 10, unless you were ready to part with a week's pay, and even then, good luck finding a 9 1/2. I know this because my first job ever was selling shoes. Ironic, huh? A girl who hates wearing shoes spends two years selling them during her high school years. But we didn't carry 9 1/2's. 9's or 10's, no 9 1/2's. I will admit this - during my tenure as a shoe salesperson, I bought lots of shoes. I could wear 9's in those old square-toed styles that were popular in the early 70's, so when we got our shipments of new shoes, if there was a style I liked, I snatched one of the two pairs of 9's we would get in. I eventually had a shoe wardrobe consisting of 25 sinfully indulgent pairs of the latest, greatest shoes available. Since footwear was required in school, and flip-flops did not qualify as acceptable footwear in 1970, I made the most of my employee discount. I even had navy blue patent leather boots that laced up and had brass eyelets and hugged your leg and matched a navy blue belt with big brass belt holes like the eyelets on the boots. I was so hip! But I digress. I only wore shoes when I absolutely had to, like to work, to school, to funerals and weddings - that pretty much covers it. The moment I got home, off went the shoes. Feet were meant to be unbound, toes free to wriggle and spread as needed. California was the perfect place for a shoephobe like me.

Then I moved to Idaho. Summers here are warm, and going barefoot is perfectly normal. But when we moved here, most people had gravel driveways, not cement or asphalt. And most of the parking lots were gravel. Big, jagged, gnarly gravel. The kind that, when you walk on it barefoot, makes you wish you were shod. Not me. I have leather for soles on my feet. I have the toughest feet ever. I walked daily from my front door to my mailbox across a 100 foot long, very rugged, gravel driveway for nearly ten years. My husband would run to soak his feet after simply watching me do this, but then, his feet hurt walking on carpet. He always wears socks inside, shoes outside. He has baby feet. He thinks I'm insane.

And then it snowed. Did that stop my barefooting ways? No way, Jose! I walk to get the newspaper in my bare feet more often than not. It gets a bit cold at times, especially when we are in the midst of an Arctic blast, but my feet can take it. They've had 50 years experience!

Now, when it rains, and the (now paved) driveway is covered in nightcrawlers, and I'm walking to get the paper in the dark and step on a slimy worm, well... then I give my barefooting ways a second thought, but that's about the only time. Before you go getting all crazy on me about safety issues or some such nonsense (like my mother and her lockjaw stories), let me sayd, I do wear shoes when I mow the lawn. Well, sort of. I wear my Chaco sandals. Obviously, I have to wear shoes at work. In the summer, I wear my Chacos every single day. Wearing them is almost as good as going barefoot. My feet get a crazy zig-zagged tan line, I paint my toenails, and do what I can to make my clodhopper feet look at least a little feminine, which means I put lotion on them to try to soften my calluses. But Chacos aren't the most feminine sandals around. They're pretty much designed for mountain climbing, stream hopping, hiking, and whatnot. I love them. They are so comfortable, and comfort is the name of the game! In the winter, once the snow gets too deep for my Chacos, I don my Uggs.
Uggs barely count as shoes. They are soft, warm, and oh so comfortable. They are almost as good as going barefoot, especially since you don't wear socks with them. I love my Uggs. I have black ones, with black sheepskin inside, so my feet turn a greenish-gray from the dye rubbing off on them. It reminds me of how people are supposed to make sure they have on clean underwear in case they get hit by a car and have to go to the hospital - something about doctors and nurses seeing you in clean underwear so you don't embarrass your mother. What would they think of my gray-green feet? Would they think I had some horrible disorder and bring in Dr. House to determine the cause? I don't care. I love my Uggs. I loathe shoes, but I love Uggs.