My husband is complaining about my shoe collection.  It is overflowing out of the bedroom closet and the downstairs coat closet is so packed full of shoes, sometimes an avalanche falls down when you open the door. I can’t help it, I love shoes!

I have shoes I’ve never even worn.  Sad, isn’t it?  I have three pairs, two of them beautiful designer labels, that have only been tried on.  I have several other pairs that I’ve worn maybe once or twice.

I will wear one of the new pairs to my daughter’s graduation next week, but I’m torn as to which pair.  The black Steve Madden “Steven” collection satin pumps with the ankle strap, or the cute buff-coloured peep-toe Guess sling-backs?

It’s a good thing I can’t afford Jimmy Choo or Laboutin.  I was looking at a $700.00 pair of Christian Dior shoes one day and I think Big Daddy Kev nearly died.  I had to give him CPR and then explain that I was JUST LOOKING.

He told my mother yesterday my dirty little secret of buying three pairs of shoes at once.  He also made sure it was very clear that I did not just do this once, but have on several occasions.  Not that my mother really cares, but I know she thinks that it is extravagant.  It’s not really, though.  What am I supposed to do?  Walk around barefooted?  A girl needs to have shoes that GO with her dresses.  And jeans.  And dress pants.  And skirts.  And jackets.

I even have multiple pairs of the same shoes, just in different colours.  Not just of one style, but of four different styles.  How many pairs of shoes do I have, I hear you asking.  Well, I’m not sure, but at one point several years ago, the count was close to one hundred.  I have thrown out and given away many, many of those pairs, but have accumulated more.  I actually am not sure how many pairs I own.

Sigh.  I have to go now and clean out my closet.  I have to find a way to make all those shoes fit, because I’m not ready to get rid of any of them.  Funny how attached I am to those things.