tortured by shoe alley

I have big feet.

There, I said it. I have tried denying it or hiding it my entire life, but now I am owning up to it and even sharing it with you. I have big feet. I have always had trouble buying shoes. When I see a pair I like, I go find it in my size and it either doesn't exist or it looks more like a boat than a shoe. Because of this, I have squeezed my toes into uncomfortable little contraptions on more occasions than I care to admit. It's embarrassing. It's sad. I don't really like to talk about it.

Why am I talking about, then??

Yesterday, we went to a little place here in Naples they like to call "Shoe Alley." It is a large outdoor market where you can buy anything from a milk frothing device to a shoe.

I don't know where the vendors get their products, but somehow they are able to slash the prices and sell things far under the average retail price.

I was promised they had big shoe sizes. I was ready to find me some boots so I can fit in here in Europe. Before we left the house, though, I made a promise to myself not to squeeze into something uncomfortable, because these boots would have to carry me around the streets of Europe where we tend to do a ton of walking.

I saw many, many cute shoes and boots and dreamed that I was a fashionista who knew how to wear them. I was having visions of myself in skinny jeans or leggings with boots up to my knees.

Then I tried on a pair.....

It turns out there is no translation for my shoe size in Italian.

Some things are just not meant to be.

The end.