I’ve always loved shoes. Before my injury, my companions were a pair of knock-off combat boots that I wore with cutoff jean shorts, black minis and dresses. My mom hated them! I was wearing them when I got injured, but between the rollover, ambulance and someone cutting off the shirt I was wearing, the boots were lost forever. I still think of them often.
As a new wheelchair user, I experimented with soft and oversized shoes. They were easy to put on and reduced the possibility of pressure wounds, but every time I was in a trendy shoe store I felt robbed of the opportunity to wear cool and sexy footwear. I began to spice it up. A camel-colored wedge made me feel beautiful, even though I had to MacGyver straps underneath my skirt to keep my knees in place.
When a fancy event calls for fancy footwear, I buy a fierce pair of shoes for a one-night adventure and save the receipt. They make me feel like the most exquisite woman. The next day we part ways. No hurt feelings, just the memory of