Before I was engaged, I had never worn a bra from Victoria's Secret. It was inconceivable to me that I could wear a bra I already owned on my wedding day. My friends and I went to the mall, I walked in and looked around at the vast quantity of things I wouldn't buy, and explained what I needed to the sales lady who approached us. She was very tall, quite busty, and decades later I still remember the haughty condescension in her voice when she declared that they didn't carry anything in my size. Shamed to my core I took my healthy young breast tissue out of the place where she worked, and went to a nearby department store. They didn't have anything in my size either. My friends and I poked around for a while before we found some discreet stickers. I bought them, but never wore them. I ended up donning my wedding dress sans bra, and spent the rest of the day free from any expensive and uncomfortable encumberances.
Many shop for footwear the way I shopped for a special occasion bra back then. I had a preconceived fanciful and romantic notion in my head, and a bra from Victoria's Secret was one of the critical items on my list. My idea of the perfect bra was vague, but it would be sexy, that I much I knew. Possibly I thought that this magical bra would give me cleavage I didn't possess, a sultry, seductive, smoky, come hither attitude that in no way resembled who I was at the age of twenty-two. I craved more bravado, and confidence. The bra was to be empowering, making up for the things I lacked without taking away from anything I currently possessed. Surprisingly I made it through the rehearsal dinner, ceremony, and gift opening without this fantasy bra. Nothing earth shattering happened, nobody said anything about my lack of underwires or bra strap. I was engaged one moment, married the next, and I had done it all without the bra I had conjured up inside of my head.
I didn't really need an amazing bra. I needed emotional support. My twenty-something brain and body were often mistaken for a boy, this bra would change all of that, only, it really didn't. Even when I spent more money on bras, there were still people who couldn't tell I had breasts on my chest. When I was expecting my youngest, I worked at a nursing home. We had a patient who called me the little boy and did not want me in her room because of my supposed gender. One woman I worked with pulled the hem of my scrub top up far enough to expose my far from flat belly, and a bra that was much larger than any I had worn previously. Even then the patient wasn't convinced, but it didn't bother me as much as the psychiatric patient who kicked me hard enough for me to take a couple steps back. I needed emotional support then too, but I didn't receive it at work, home, or really anywhere else either.
Recognizing what we need, what is right, and what is working for us is often surprisingly challenging. Discovering footwear that fits is a form of creative problem solving. It's taking a look at body parts we often overlook, paying a lot of attention to them, it's more feeling than thinking, and as adults, we may have acquired habits that make it difficult to overcome one of the psychological barriers that stands between us and what we want; footwear that fits may feel wrong because we are conditioned and accustomed to wearing the wrong shape, size, color, or style. A lot of people shop for footwear from the outside in, and the top down. They want a pair of black dress shoes, or a really great pair of running shoes for their upcoming marathon, and if they lose a few toenails in the process, they present those as evidence of their dedication, resilience, and fortitude.
Footwear that fits preserves and hopefully increases foot health. Ultimately this is my goal when I work with others. Because I am detached from their feet, I can see things that they often can't. I tell people that their job is feel, and mine is fit. Footwear fits when it meets certain criteria. What those are will be explored further, but for now, we can start with an examination of your bare foot/feet. Take a look at your feet and have someone else take some pictures for you if you are able and comfortable with this process. Soccer and yoga talk about sides of the feet, we want to consider your overall foot, and any peculiartities that we may notice; pink or red areas, dry skin, prominent bulging veins, a blue tint, yellowing nails, bumps, bruises, scarring, bony projections, you get the idea. Start coming up with adjectives to describe your foot to someone like me. Is it long, thin, short, wide, narrow, tall, cold, sweaty? Get intimate with these terms and what your foot/feet look like now. This is lesson one.
tl;dr:
1. Look at your feet. Try to identify distinguishing characteristics and adjectives that will help you when you move on to lesson two. Each lesson is cumulative and builds on information learned in the first. Engineering principles state that decisions made earlier in the process have a greater impact on the final product or process than decisions made later, so while this may seem very basic, it is practicially impossible to get footwear that fits without the first step. Congratulations! You have made a very important decision. Greater health will be yours as we move forward. I would like to close with a statement about success; first decide what you want, and how much you are willing to sacrifice and pay for getting it. Then remember that success requires payment in advance, and it is due in full before the final product is delivered. My hope is that by the time we are done, more people will realize the psychological, mental, physical, and emotional ramifications of wearing footwear that fits.
Footwear That Fits - Lesson Two