You might stay away from spandex if you feel you're overweight like you'd avoid wearing black being aware of your dandruff situation. But a woman can have feet of Krusty the Clown and toes of Beetle Juice and still find the heart to accommodate yet another pair of open-toe sandals.
Being born female, one is automatically prone to this incurable addiction. As unique as I'd like to portray myself to be, I've been granted no exemption from this epidemic. Ever since I've had adequate spending power, I've contributed more than enough to the women's shoes industry to legally claim a share of it. I started buying my own shoes during my high school years. Of course on a part-time salary I could only afford $30 pairs. Needless to say they were of pitifully low quality and often lasted just about long enough before I could find money to pay for the next pair.
Thank God that was 10 years ago. Since then, I have mellowed, and so have my collection of footwear. A woman's choice of shoes reveals more about her than her taste in purses and men combined. And I'm not only saying that because I own more shoes than I do purses and men combined.
I'd like to believe that somewhere on this planet is a woman with immunity to this syndrome, but that I'd be long gone before we could hunt her down and decode those mutated genes of hers. In the meanwhile, the next time you find yourself under the torture of having to behold neon green sparkling polish on chicken's feet stuffed in a pair of Manolo Blahnik, (yes, I watch too much Sex and the City) just calm yourself and forgive her. At US$400 a pair, she's the real victim.
** "Women and Shoes" is a world-acclaimed classic fairytale to which you can expect to find infinite sequels, all of which conclude with "...and they lived happily ever after."