Hiding In The Closet
When was the last time you let a visitor at your house check out your closets? Many times in preparation for company we cram everything in our closets just to hide all the things we have no idea what to do with. The things that just hang around the house that have no real place. I recently had a friend over and opened my closet to reveal how many pairs of shoes I had. I’m no Amelda Marcus, but I like my shoes. The thing is that a pink pair of shoes changed my life. Isn’t it funny that something as simple and common as shoes can make an alteration in the way you live your life?
A couple of years ago my friend Shelli challenged me with pink shoes. She claimed you just feel and act differently wearing them. I was quite intrigued with her idea, so I decided to try it. I’ve always liked shoes, but if they weren’t black I didn’t really have an interest in them. So, I took the pink shoe challenge and have never looked back. The only time I wore boring shoes was over the past six months due to doctors orders to wear flats for my broken foot. Ok, I am a rebel and snuck my heels in every once in a while. I got a great pair of Kate Spades that get both the women and men talking. They are fierce! Those of you who have seen them know what I am talking about.
It’s true that certain shoes make you feel different. Shoes can say a lot about you. One of my aunts has always told me that when you are checking out men look at their watch and their shoes. There’s something to be said for that. I remember being with a group of gal pals once hanging out chatting about one of our friends. She was the type of woman that always wanted your approval and apologized for everything she said and did. It bothered me every time we had a conversation. I would tell her all the time just be who you are, say what you got to say and don’t apologize for it. One of the girls pointed out her shoes. Look at her shoes she said, they just aren’t fun. It was true. Her shoes symbolized her life. They were almost apologetic themselves.
Sandals make me feel sassy. I don’t know what it is about them. That’s how the whole closet thing got started. My friend asked me how many pair of sandals I owned. I didn’t really know so on a whim I said let’s go see. After checking out the shoes the next thing you know I was in the pantry and the fridge showing it all, the good, the bad and the ugly. The yucky parts. The unorganized, flawed parts. The imperfections. The things we try to hide. The things we don’t anyone to see. These dark places and spaces we are ashamed of. The things that we make excuses for. Yet, my friend didn’t blink an eye. No judgement. Nothing. Just ok. Some of this looks like my place. It was comforting to know I wasn’t the only person on the planet that had messy closets and enough cereal to feed an army in their pantry.
The whole showing of the closets and pantry was strange to me at first. I wondered what was I doing? Why I am just opening up everything and letting it be known? Maybe I should have just given an estimate on the number of sandals I owned and continued with the facade of perfection. The whole experience got me thinking. Why do we feel as if we have to be a certain way with people? What is the thinking behind having to be perfect people, with perfect houses? Isn’t it the flaws that make us who we are? Isn’t it the acceptance of the flaws in others that makes us better people and makes them more endearing? A big shout out to my friend who just accepts me and lets me be who I am. An imperfect girl with messy closets.
We hide behind fake smiles, baggy clothes and sassy sandals. We hide any type of imperfection on both the inside and outside. What are we afraid of? In a society that strives for perfection that they will never attain I can’t help but wonder why are we hiding in the closet?
A couple of years ago my friend Shelli challenged me with pink shoes. She claimed you just feel and act differently wearing them. I was quite intrigued with her idea, so I decided to try it. I’ve always liked shoes, but if they weren’t black I didn’t really have an interest in them. So, I took the pink shoe challenge and have never looked back. The only time I wore boring shoes was over the past six months due to doctors orders to wear flats for my broken foot. Ok, I am a rebel and snuck my heels in every once in a while. I got a great pair of Kate Spades that get both the women and men talking. They are fierce! Those of you who have seen them know what I am talking about.
It’s true that certain shoes make you feel different. Shoes can say a lot about you. One of my aunts has always told me that when you are checking out men look at their watch and their shoes. There’s something to be said for that. I remember being with a group of gal pals once hanging out chatting about one of our friends. She was the type of woman that always wanted your approval and apologized for everything she said and did. It bothered me every time we had a conversation. I would tell her all the time just be who you are, say what you got to say and don’t apologize for it. One of the girls pointed out her shoes. Look at her shoes she said, they just aren’t fun. It was true. Her shoes symbolized her life. They were almost apologetic themselves.
Sandals make me feel sassy. I don’t know what it is about them. That’s how the whole closet thing got started. My friend asked me how many pair of sandals I owned. I didn’t really know so on a whim I said let’s go see. After checking out the shoes the next thing you know I was in the pantry and the fridge showing it all, the good, the bad and the ugly. The yucky parts. The unorganized, flawed parts. The imperfections. The things we try to hide. The things we don’t anyone to see. These dark places and spaces we are ashamed of. The things that we make excuses for. Yet, my friend didn’t blink an eye. No judgement. Nothing. Just ok. Some of this looks like my place. It was comforting to know I wasn’t the only person on the planet that had messy closets and enough cereal to feed an army in their pantry.
The whole showing of the closets and pantry was strange to me at first. I wondered what was I doing? Why I am just opening up everything and letting it be known? Maybe I should have just given an estimate on the number of sandals I owned and continued with the facade of perfection. The whole experience got me thinking. Why do we feel as if we have to be a certain way with people? What is the thinking behind having to be perfect people, with perfect houses? Isn’t it the flaws that make us who we are? Isn’t it the acceptance of the flaws in others that makes us better people and makes them more endearing? A big shout out to my friend who just accepts me and lets me be who I am. An imperfect girl with messy closets.
We hide behind fake smiles, baggy clothes and sassy sandals. We hide any type of imperfection on both the inside and outside. What are we afraid of? In a society that strives for perfection that they will never attain I can’t help but wonder why are we hiding in the closet?
posted by Heylala | 10:04 AM
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