#whentheshoefits

I am never ever again going by the adage “fashion knows no pain.”

In this case it was some red ballet flats I had hankered after for weeks. When I finally got the money, I rushed to the boutique on Kampala road where the shoes were. I had already tried them on twice before so I just paid and dashed home even faster with my package.

The minute I got home, I was in front of the mirror in my room and the shoes were on my feet. A little prance, then a dance, then I walked towards the mirror, then away from the mirror, then I looked sideways, first the right, then to the left, then with my hands akimbo, then the 90 degrees angle, then sway swayed like a model.

I had already planned the outfit that I would wear the next day. It was important to show off my new acquisition and make sure that I drew all the attention to my “beautiful little” feet adorned in so chic and elegant a pair. Blue and white go well with red, and so, like a little child opening birthday presents, I woke up early, donned the new pair and went off to work.

As expected, some people noticed, and those who know how to give compliments, gave the compliments. I even promised one or two that I would take them to the shop where they could eat their hearts out at the variety. “And he has such good prices, eh?”

The morning wore on nicely, and at every opportunity, I would spring from my desk and take a walk, however unnecessary. To the reception, to the bathroom, to the water dispenser, to ask a work-mate a question, to everywhere.

Soon it was lunchtime. Now, I eat away from the office, it’s about a 10 minutes walk. A colleague offered me a lift because it was quite hot, but I politely declined. The shoes had to be put to test. After all? C’mon.

I started feeling the discomfort after a few meters. Not very much, but I know the signs. By the time I was out of the gate, it was obvious that something was terribly wrong. I looked down at my feet. They were swollen around the front. But you all know how when “fashion knows no pain” right?

I didn't say a thing, just walked. When we got to lunch, I kicked off the shoes under the table.
But even as I ate, my mind was racing, “Eh, had this man kuferad me? I am a size 37, the shoes were 37 but they feel more like 34. Are they from China?”

When lunch was done, I slipped the shoes back on. They felt tighter. “But I’ll be able to make it back,” I convinced myself.

I hobbled back to the office, my toes on fire. At one point the pain got too much that I even contemplated taking the shoes off and going barefoot.

Thank God I arrived safely. I checked the insoles to make sure that the shoes were genuine and not just pasted on like these downtown vendors do. But they were not Chinese..

I didn't wear them for the rest of the afternoon and I drove home barefoot. A few days later, and my big toes are still numb.

You know how that red shoe really made me see red.