I miss this blog and a move!

I've missed writing in this blog. About shoes and how much I love them. Since 2012 many other babies have made their way into the "family" but I've been so busy writing about weight loss and changing mindsets when it comes to body image that I stopped for a while.

However I'm slowly moving both blogs over to a weebly website/blog while I wait to purchase my shehascuteshoes.com domain again.

Come and bookmark www.shehascuteshoes.weebly.com

See you there!

Finding My Cinderella

I had only been on the market for a few days when I saw her walk in and straight away I knew she and I would be hitting the floor together that night.

It took her a little time but I caught her eye when she walked into where I was just waiting, letting her be the one to make the first move.

Her eyes wandered to my friend to the left of me. I was a little surprised by that. I mean, I clocked what she was wearing. Printed tee, skinny black jeans. I was more her type than.....anyway, I had to watch as she smiled and sized up my friend. I knew, I just knew that they weren't a match.

I could see the look of disappointment on her face.

If only I could catch her eye again. Then she would know that we were made for each other. I knew that if the two of us got together then I could help her feel like she used to. That part of her that she pushed aside when the fear kicked in. The fear of falling, of failing. Of making a fool of herself.

All rubbish of course. But try telling her that.

I knew I could make her smile again. But, she had to choose me.

Those are the rules.

Just as I was about to give up hope of her ever noticing me, she asked if she could meet me. 'Here we go' I thought to myself.

Strangely I thought of that rubbish fairy tale about Cinderella and that glass slipper. It was a story that I had grown up with and decided that it was just for fools and those dainty little things with no substance. But here I was. One perfect fit and our lives would change.

And fit we did.

Before I knew it she had me on her feet and we were out on the floor together. She was a little cautious at first and I had to slow my wheels a little for her but once we found our rhythm there was no stopping us that night. I could see other people watching us with envy, admiring the way we looked so good together and how much she was smiling.

I have a very good feeling that my Cinderella just found me tonight and we'll be out on the rink for a long time to come.

Zero Tolerance Roller Skates

Junk vs Healthy

So Jayne asks....

What were your old food habits like? What were you like before embarking on this journey to become a healthier version of yourself? How did you feel?

 Was there anything you struggled with but have over come?(etc addictions soft drinks, chocolates are some examples) How did you do it? Was it just a decision you made? Or did you do it slowly?

 Now I would like you tell me and maybe tell others that aren't on the journey what has changed? What are your new eating habits like? How do you feel now? What is the difference? Tell us how it is changing your life? It can be hard at times! But tell us why it has been and continues to be worth it?

I haven't written a Shoe Story ( see www.shehascuteshoes.com for other Shoe Stories and just what they are ) for a while so I thought this might be a different way to do this post today. I hope you like it. 

We sat on the steps, just the two of us. It was quiet there and no one would bother us for the hour or two we could just be ourselves. We didn't have to explain why we couldn't do extra classes or why our school uniform was plain and common and there was no need for a hat or a blazer.

We had already been to the fish and chip shop downstairs to get our hot chips with salt and vinegar and we sat with our nose buried in a book we could escape. Opening the white butchers paper slowly, breathing in that comforting smell of the hot, fried potato and the crisp smell of the vinegar that was sharp on our tongue.

After we had eaten them slowly, we ate a packet of chips and we kept reading and hiding. Salt and Vinegar, Chicken or Plain. Sometimes Burger Rings. Never cheese Twisties lest she be asked why we didn't audition for the TV commercial.

These foods became our friends. They were fat friends in comfort food clothing and would contribute to the disconnection between the two of us.

We just weren't able to make that connection yet.

Size 3 Bloch Ballet Shoes xx

Then....

Just. Get. Home.

Open the garage door. 

Don't hit the side of the garage. 

Careful! Careful!

Remember to lock the car. Lock the garage door.

Don't forget the "meds". 

Upstairs. 

Don't turn on the lights. 

Slowly. Carefully. No sudden movements.

Drink some Diet Coke. Take the tablets.

Go into the bedroom. Take the "other meds".

She unties me and I watch her as she eases herself onto the bed. It's dim in here so it's hard to see. We are usually together, she and I but when she's like this, it's like I am watching her from a distance.

Carefully she places a cool pack on her head, picks up a book she has read numerous times and opens a large packet of plain chips.

Once she has finished her "other medicine" she leans over and shoves the empty packet under the bed. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of guilt. Closes her eyes and sleeps. 

I stay by the side of the bed and wait. This is not the first time. Nor will it be the last time we do this. 

Size 5 Aqua Chucks xx

I remember the day when she saw those Vegemite Chips. 

I remember the day when she stalked those Vegemite Chips. 

They stayed in the flat for weeks because she decided they would be our birthday treat. 

We had just started Rounds 3 of 12WBT and we were determined not to self medicate our migraines or our loneliness with potato chips ( or hot chips ) and find better ways to deal with both. 

But when she saw ( I refuse to say we! ) those chips she knew that they were only going to be around for a short amount of time - it was a choice that had to be made.

Believe it or not we weren't tempted to eat them. And our birthday came and went and those chips stayed in their packet. We ate them over a week on four separate occasions, putting them in a special bowl and enjoying each one. 

It was a little victory. We would have our setbacks over the coming months but it was a giant leap forward. Somehow the lesson stuck too. They lost some of their power that day. 

Little win. 

x Light Aqua Havianas


And now....

Just. Get. Home.

Open the garage door. 

Don't hit the side of the garage. 

Careful! Careful!

Remember to lock the car. Lock the garage door.

Don't forget the "meds". 

Upstairs. 

Don't turn on the lights. 

Slowly. Carefully. No sudden movements.

Drink some Diet Coke. Take the tablets.

Go into the bedroom. 

She unties me and I watch her as she eases herself onto the bed. It's dim in here so it's hard to see. We are usually together, she and I but when she's like this, it's like I am watching her from a distance.

Carefully she places a cool pack on her head, picks up a book she has read numerous times and reads.

Sometimes, although not every time she eases herself out of bed and makes a Vegemite sandwich or some plain popcorn with a fair amount of salt and gingerly brings that back to her bed to eat before the medication does it's job and she falls asleep. 

I look under her bed. 

No chip packets for the past 8 weeks. 

So far, so good. 

Size 5 Aqua Chucks xx

Mmm Corn Fritters. Avocado. Corn Relish. Chips. Chips.  

But we don't want the hot chips.

Oooooh. Hot chips. Yes we do. Oh but maybe not. 

Ok. Ploughmans Platter it is then. No Chips with that. 

They chatter. Laugh. Giggle. Whinge about things a bit. Ask each other questions about husbands, babies, children and dating. 

J ordered a bowl of hot chips to share! Seagull! Can we seagull?! Yes. Look who we are with! Of course we can! Hurrah!

Stop. Before we start. We need to establish some ground rules here. How many? 

Who cares! I feeeeellllll like hot chips! They look so crispy too! 

Cut it out. 5. 

10.

8. My last offer. And if they get dessert Missy. One word. No. 

Fine. I like how my black skinnies aren't as skinny anymore anyway!

Me xx

Fuchsia Boots xxx

A One Sided Conversation

“I need to tell you something. Something you might like to hear.  You know how we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately?.... 

Don’t be like that, I know I’ve been taking up a lot of her time,  I apologised for it already....

Ok. So what I wanted to tell you. .....

Yes. You can tell the others but it might not mean as much to them as it may to you....

You see I heard about what happened when you two met and spent all that time together.....

I know that She felt like the Most Perfect Ballerina and I know that you feel bad that you couldn’t protect Her from the hooks and barbs and the things that woman said...

That they said to Her....

How long did it take before she stopped looking in the mirror? ...

Why did She stop?..... 

Do you think it was from then? .....

Could something from that long ago stop Her eyes from really seeing? Is that why Her eyes just slide away to the left when She looks at herself before we leave to go out?.....

How could those women not know.... 

Or was it not that bad?....

Was it just a childhood twisted memory?.....

Oh...perhaps....

Anyway.... I wanted to tell you that the other day we were running on the treadmill, She wouldn’t call it running but it was...

Yes I know, I wish She would too....

So we were running and she looked up and across from us was a mirror. And She looked.At first Her eyes did the slide but then after a while I felt a change in Her....

Yes, maybe something from when you guys were together....

I don’t know.I think Her body remembered what it was like to feel strong and fast and lean and supple...

It was like something in Her just clicked....and She looked up. She saw herself in the mirror....

I mean She really saw herself. She looked...

Yes! And Her eyes didn't slide away.I saw Her stride get longer and Her arms get looser....

Yes!....

She watched herself run....

I couldn’t believe it either...

I really wish you could have seen Her eyes light up and....

Yes!...

How did you know that She smiled like THAT!?....

She did?....

She did?.Huh!....

Well.....um...wow...yeah...

So...do you think between the two of us She might one day feel like an athlete?...

Maybe we need to encourage Her to start dancing again? ..

Yes I am well aware it’s going to take a bit of convincing...

Ok...We’ll work on it together....”

Speedy Asics  in conversation with Size 3 Bloch Ballet Shoes

Apparently this conversation happened the other day between Speedy Asics and Size 3 Bloch Ballet Shoes. You can read Speedy Asics apology letter for us spending so much time at the gym lately and Size 3 Bloch Ballet Shoes story explaining how I once felt like the perfect ballerina. 

Edit :  I did my first Bellydancing class on 1st November. I felt like a dancer again in some small, random way...Zumba doesn't make me feel like that but Bellydancing did. 

I think this conversation somehow had a bit of an influence on me ;)

Some people consider themselves athletes. Others do not.  Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction in which athleticism features prominently.

http://writeonedge.com/2011/10/red-writing-hood-athleticism-2/

An Invisible Pink Bruise

The first time we were only 21. The second time we were 29. You would think it would have been easier the second time being older but it hit harder. 

It's like when you get hit by a ball that has has been hurtled at you unexpectedly from somewhere just out of your vision. It leaves a bruise. 

Over time bruise may disappear but if you press hard enough, in just the right place, even though it seems to have healed - it is still tender.

That's how it felt the second time.

Except for us, instead of someone pressing with their fingers into that hidden, tender spot - it was like a black, gloved hand was twisting and turning and pressing down and at first making it hard to breathe. 

But then, after time, after just living our life,  we got used to that tender spot hurting again, shed our tears and lived it. 

We shut the voice down in our head both times that tried to signal that this may be the end, it was going to get worse, that this was in our future, that nothing was ever going to be the same. That voice that tried to silence our Hope and Faith.

The first time there were other most loved that were going through their own similar battles and we became the band-aid, the one who would look after the ones She could not. The ones She also loved. We didn't mind but looking back now we didn't think about what She was going through much at all. It wasn't that we didn't care. We cared too much. We just did what She couldn't do while She was in Hospital.

Except for that one day when the world did slow down enough for us to go with Her. To be with Her while she sat in that leather ezy-chair and ponder the irony and swallow back the unhelpful tears while trying to ignore the needle and drip in Her arm and pray that this "medicine" that was so toxic would do it's job. That there would be days with her to talk about this and thank Him for more days that were nothing like this. 

But almost 8 years later it happened again. We remember the day we got the phone call. We remember leaving work. We remember driving straight to Her house and sitting on Their bed and talking and praying and wondering how it could strike again. Same thing. Different side. Different type. Another Hospital operation. 

This time there were no distractions. This time we could focus on Her. We kept our Faith and Hope. We were sadly more prepared. I think this time we faced it as a Family. The four of us. 

And when the operation was done, the next day She and I sat on the Hospital balcony, we stood up to a scary Matron on Her behalf and ate fresh Egg & Bacon rolls for breakfast. 

The sun shone brightly on our faces that day. 

Her adjustments began again and life changed but Hope and Faith never wavered. 

No matter how hard it was. We were blessed.

xx The soles of my shoeless feet.

Mum & I in the mid 1970's

As you may be aware it is Pink Ribbon Day today to raise awareness for Breast Cancer. The Cancer Council tell us that " ....one in every nine Australian women will be diagnosed with breast cancer by the age of 85". 

One. In. Nine.

In 1995 my Mum was diagnosed with Breast cancer in her left breast. She had all her lymph nodes removed, a full mastectomy and chemotherapy. At around the same time my Grandfather, her Father was also battling his own illness, my Grandmother didn't, couldn't cope and my feet learned the feel of three different Hospitals in Sydney in those months. Just not often the one that my Mum was most familiar with.Mum got through her treatment, sadly we said goodbye to my Grandfather and life continued on.

But almost 8 years later during her one of her regular follow ups she was eventually diagnosed with cancer a second time. This time in her right breast. Totally unrelated. Tubular cancer "One of the better cancers to get".Yes this was a statement from her Specialist. Possibly true but what a statement! She chose a full mastectomy without a second thought and again all lymph nodes were removed. No chemotherapy or radiation was required. The removal of her breast was enough.

I have no idea what shoes I wore during that time but the soles of my feet remember every single moment of both those years even if my brain refuses to and my heart has buried most of the emotion. Two more Polaroid Moments fused into my sole forever. 

Nearly everyone I know has a story of how they have been touched by cancer in some way. Just look at those statistics. We know in our heads it's important to financially support the research and yet how many of us do? 

I'm buying my Pink Ribbon. I'm buying as many Pink endorsed products as I can - even though I know how little some of the profits of individual items are, it all adds up. I'll be going to a Pink Ribbon afternoon tea and I'll be keeping my Faith and Hope.

You see, even with those statistics on paper I know that my statistics are higher that it's possible that it's in my future now. My doctor keeps reminding me.

However I have a trust in the One who is above statistics but even if I do have to face what my Mum has fought twice now I will be fine. I already have that tender spot. And if ever have to wear "that scar" on my own body, I'll wear it as a badge of honour because I have the most wonderful example of strong, amazing, real, fragile, faithful, hopeful, courageous women to draw on. 

And there are those that I treasure as close friends who have walked similar walks that I have as daughters (and sons) that haven't had the same outcome, that faced a very different type of pain and their bruise bears a different mark. I almost have "Surviour Mum" guilt in a way and I know that they would want to bop me on the head right now reading that! - but I understand their tender spot as I know they understand mine.

So my tender spot? It will be like a invisible, pink bruise in the shape of a ribbon to remind me of what strength is. Just like those amazingly women who have already fought that battle. I think of those that have both won and lost and the ways in which your fight has impacted my life as a woman. I'm stronger for it.

And to all of you ( you know who you are! ) I....we....say "Thank you!"

Do you have a pink bruise or a tender spot ? Been strengthened by someone else's journey? I'd love to hear about it. Leave me a comment below.