Thursday, April 14, 2011

Something Personal

I'm here to talk about something "nice people" don't like talking about: your rights and responsibilities regarding the proper maintenance and storage of cheese.

Just kidding.

(But thank you, Captain Monterey Jack.)

Really, now: I do want to talk about something I've been in denial about; a couple of things actually. These are things that "girls" generally "like." "Girly things." Things that I have acted like I didn't care about, but I've recently decided to embrace. What are these feminine delights, you ask? Well: dessert and shoes.

How shallow! How crassly superficial! What inconsequential gornisht to post on your blog!

Hey man, kiss my grits. I like this stuff.

Let me start by saying that I know that men need shoes and dessert, too; whatever. And I know plenty of young, urban men who get very excited over footwear. But what I'm referring to is that stereotypical shoe fetish that women are known for having, and that terrifying tendency to destroy everything in one's path for chocolate cake every twenty-eight days or so.

I still don't think I'm one of those women. But let me begin with desserts: I've always had a tooth for salt; I love olives, anchovies, salt, you name it. I used to crave salt and eat salt...in secret, of course. Then, a few months ago, I had a chocolate lava cake and it changed my life. I was like, "Screw this 'I'm not a dessert person' rubbish. This is part of my meal!" And so it is. I now seek out chocolate cake in an attempt to recreate that mouth-blowing (get your head out of the gutter) experience, and even when I fail, it's usually well worth it. I also love flan and creme brulee. I also once had this white chocolate mousse with raspberry sauce- this was like, thirteen years ago- it was amazing. That was doubly surprising as I also claim to hate white chocolate, but apparently I don't. I just hate those white-chocolate Passover lollipops and Easter bunnies (keep your cheap white chocolate out of my springtime treats, thank you!) (If you are interested in Passover candy, read my post from about one year ago.)

So, yeah- I like dessert.

And now for the shoes. Even after admitting that I have a ton of shoes, therefore I must like them more than I realized or have admitted in the past, I must assert that I have an atypical female relationship with them. Many women, it seems, prefer shoe shopping to clothes shopping because, dare I say, they don't always love their bodies and would rather adorn their feet (sorry if that was offensive!). Beyond that, many women do have cute feet. I do not. I love my body, though, and clothes shopping is never a problem for me. Shoe shopping is. I have bunions and I guess they're genetic and I will not get surgery so they will haunt my life and my shoe-buying habits for as long as I live. And they will only get worse. The only hope is that my propensity towards orthopedic footwear (which is already relatively prominent for a woman of my age) will continue to flourish.

Now that I've gotten this out in the open, I really don't want to get too deep into it. So let me synopsize: I have weird feet, I like cute shoes, sometimes I buy the same shoes more than once because of poor decision making and bad feet, sometimes I take the same shoes to the cobbler and have them fixed more than twice. Lately, I spend so much time thinking about shoes that I close my eyes and see shoes. That could have something to do with my looking at the same image of a pair of shoes online, repeatedly, over an extended period of time. I don't know.

What do you think? I don't think it's that uncommon, really. I think my biggest problem is that I tell my boyfriend about it, and that makes me feel crazy, and I have to remind myself that he is male and I am female and sometimes I will do crazy things and he will act like he doesn't want to enable me when, in fact, he is just so sick of hearing about something he never took interest in to begin with, and now I'm on my third pair of shoes in three days and he's like, "Wait- what?" And we both know something is wrong with me.

So this is the reason why misogyny exists. And this is why the nineteen-fifties were the way they were. And this is why Disney princesses are suddenly all hanging out together on pink backpacks like they were ever part of the same narrative. And if you're wondering why my writing is so scattered, it's simply because my mind has room for only two things, and there's hardly any room left for dessert.

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