I’ve put a lot of miles on my shoes. If only they could talk they’d day, “put us out of our misery!”

Buying shoes isn’t something I enter into lightly. It’s a ten (or more) year commitment. I walk past shoes in the store on display, looking for the perfect shoe. I’ve never found them. It’s like trying to shop for a new best friend. How can you possibly tell how you’ll get along in a month or a year, after hanging out in the mall for a few minutes?

Well, this year someone made the choice for me. I got a pair for Christmas and I feel like I’m in an arranged marriage.

They seem ok: a decent, serviceable pair of shoes. We’re still in the “getting to know each other” phase, each of us doing a little give and take. The shoes are giving shape, slowly molding themselves to my foot. I’m giving a few layers of skin.

I’m tempted to go back to my old pair, no matter how old they look, but I think that will only prolong the pain.

No, a clean break is probably better.