I am a Tall Girl with Big Feet.
There, I said it. I finally have said it. I am a 26-year-old tall girl with big feet.
I am a woman and my shoe size is 42. There, I said it. I finally have said it. I am a 26-year-old tall girl with big feet.
This piranha of shame was eating me from inside out. Shame because of the way I was created. Shame for something I can never change.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, brought me more fear than going to bowling with friends. That line in bowling saloon to get your bowling shoes, that’s my scariest place in the whole world.
I am at the bowling saloon now. As the line is progressing one by one, there is a loud fight going on in mind. Me & also me, we are arguing whether to say my correct size or say a smaller, more acceptable size and suffer in silence all night. Except, it isn’t so much of a fight as my shame is always winning. I am reaching the counter and I hear myself saying last acceptable woman shoe size which is 40. “According to who?” you might ask. According to friends, also, according to whole shoe industry apparently. As I am reaching for the physical proof of my shame, my bowling shoes, I swear, I can almost see, a piece of my integrity leaving my body at that exact moment.
I am 20 minutes into the game now. I somehow managed to fit my 42 sized feet into 40 sized shoes. My feet is screaming at me; it is trying to get my attention. All I do is ignore. Ignore the pain, ignore the lost piece of my integrity. Pain gets sharper, I feel like I can’t take another step. Instead, I throw the ball over and over again with a big smile on my face.
I still to this day, never said my shoe size in public.
I suffered in 40 sized pair of shoes my whole life trying to fit in, trying to conform into standards of beauty, of acceptability, of womanhood. I shrinked into what is acceptable, afraid to claim my space, afraid to claim my 42 sized shoes.
I was afraid of being “too much”, I was afraid of not being liked, I was afraid of not being “pretty”. So I shrinked. I denied. I ignored. All of us, we all shrink, we all deny, we all lose integrity along the way.
Today my gift for you is empathy. Empathy for all the ways you shrink, empathy for all the shame you have inside yourself, unshared.
Love,
FLUX