Do they have a 12 step program for this?

I have heard it said that the first step to eliminating an addiction is admitting that you have a problem. In addition, I believe it is true that a person has to want to change in order to conquer an addiction, which probably explains why interventions and resulting rehabs don’t seem to work that well (Lindsay Lohan, anyone?). You may be able to browbeat an addict into submitting to treatment by getting 10 of her friends and family members in a conference room to tell her what a drunk asshole she is, but unless she wants to stop being a drunk asshole (and instead become a sober assshole), the treatment probably won’t be effective.


That being said, I have come to the realization that I have a problem. I have a serious, big, bad addiction and it is starting to affect my life in negative ways. My suspicion is that friends and family members are concerned, and may be planning some sort of Group Talk to ease me into therapy so I can cure myself of this disease. And have no doubt, it is a disease, not just a character flaw or lack of self-control.

Hello. My name is Robin, and I am a Shoe Addict.

What, you thought I was going to say something else?

It all started innocently enough back in college. A lot of my friends were deep into shoes by then already, and I often caught them sheepishly looking left and right at the Meier and Frank shoe department register as they spent their rent money on Reebok high tops or jelly sandals in a dazzling array of colors. I didn’t really get what the big deal was, and I knew my money was better spent on beer, Qubenzas and Grateful Dead tickets (apologies to my parents, all 27 of them).

Still, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I experimented from time to time. My dabbling in what would later become a serious addiction started innocently enough: I borrowed shoes from my more stylish friends. This wasn’t easy to do, because most women who have the same size foot as me are 7 feet tall, and I didn’t know a lot of female basketball players at the University of Oregon. Regardless, once in a while I scored a hit of a pump, an espadrille, even a peep-toe slingback.  I justified my actions by reminding myself that I wasn't actually buying the shoes, which would indicate a problem.  I was just bumming them from time to time, which is totally different.

But I never really got into the hardcore scene, and managed to spend most of my college years and a few thereafter hoofing around in the footwear most favored by my Eugene brethren: the God-forsaken Birkenstock.

I don’t know exactly when I started to have a problem, but I suspect it dates back to law school. After going to several interviews, I began to notice that both the male and female lawyers seemed to be glancing uncomfortably towards my ankles and just beyond. As I said before, I have unusually large feet, and this can cause people dismay. But still. I began to suspect that wearing leather Jesus sandals to job interviews at big time firms was not going to cut it. Oh sure, I would look just right if I was looking to land a job at OSPIRG, but those jobs didn’t pay for shit. I love the environment and all, but I didn’t spend $65,000 and three years in law school so I could have my income dictated to my by a spotted owl.

Slowly, tentatively, I waded into the shoe community. I got a smoking deal on my first pair of “designer” shoes on eBay roughly 8 years ago, and that’s when the real problems started. Once you go designer, you can’t just go back to Payless Shoe Source.  Well, you could, but why would you?  The fact is, an extremely well-priced designer shoe (for example, marked down 50%  from its original price) is the gateway drug to the hard stuff.   The corporate suits at the various auction sites know this, but they have shredded all the data that prove my point. 

After a few millions dollars spent and a closet that look like this:

you tell yourself, “It’s OK, I’ll stop after this pair, just one more, just one little stiletto sandal for that benefit, I can stop anytime I want, really I don’t have a problem but you can’t NOT buy those boots can you?”

My goal is not to excuse my addiction, but I will say I have had my enablers - my "co-dependents," if you will.  My first husband (we call him "The Original," and for some reason Tom also calls him "The Canary in a Coal Mine") bought me a pair of jeweled starfish-shaped thong sandals that I have worn so many times that they aren’t actually visible anymore – basically they are dust. But I’ll tell you; those shoes are so cute, so god-damned sassy that I cannot wear them for more than five minutes without someone stopping me to inquire about them while simultaneously shrieking over their extreme level of fabulousness.

Tom has also nurtured and I daresay taken advantage of my addiction. There have been times he has arrived home at the end of the day with the gleaming silver Nordstrom Bag that he knows so moves my heart. He sees the look in my eyes, he notes the quickening of my pulse and the increase in saliva dripping from my lower, quivering lip. It’s more saliva than usual, let’s just put it that way. I am seriously a Pavlovian Puppy when it comes to good looking shoes.  A few months ago he came home with these, for no reason at all. 

Actually, he claimed he bought them as a thank you for my nursing him back to health during his terrible bout with the Swine Flu, but don’t think I don’t know what he’s up to.

Recently I have come to the conclusion that I need to get help. My shoe problem is starting to affect my relationships (I’m sorry I can’t go to your baby shower as I promised but there is a Manolo auction on Rue La La today) as well as my work (5 inch heels make it hard to run around and put out legal fires). It’s time to make a change, and last Friday I decided that there was no time like the present. I’m ready to quit.

Then I realized, well, you can’t really “quit” shoes, because you still need to wear them everyday. It’s not like quitting cigarettes or vodka, which items humans do not actually need as they need shoes.  I am not speaking from personal experience about the ability to survive without cigarettes and/or vodka, obviously.

So I need to “cut back.” I can get this thing under control – I can buy shoes like a regular person and not let them take over my life. One pair per quarter should be enough, right?  Well, excluding running shoes, of course, because those are essential in my weight loss and not really a part of the bigger problem. Speaking of that, update: bought a size 6 skirt today because all of mine are too big and I had to get new jeans this weekend in a smaller size.  Yay me.

My resolution then is no more fancy shoes for a while, and then, after a few months, I can buy one pair every three months. No problem. I had this whole system worked out, and then a funny thing happened. You remember a few blogs ago when I questioned the existence of God? I found these yesterday, and all doubt has been erased. Only a superior creator could make something as beautiful as these shoes.  Apparently God's full name is "Kate Spade."  Did you know that?  I told you God would turn out to be female.

I shall call these my Euphorbia Kick Up Your Heels, because look how similar the color is to one of my favorite plants (also presumably created by The God I Now Believe In).

Clearly the real solution to my “problem,” which really isn’t a problem at all, is that instead of quitting shoes, I need to start a religion celebrating and worshipping them. The best part is, if the IRS can give the Scientologists tax-free status as a religion, you know I can get it. Worshipping a well-designed stack heel is much more reasonable than worshipping L. Ron Hubbard.

**UPDATE**

Problem solved!