The Return of the Shoes

About a month ago, I bought a lovely pair of black wedges. A few days later, I found a beautiful pair of gold wedges, so I bought those, too. Neither pair was over $60. I had even gotten the gold pair on sale.

The rush of finding a bargain, and having a sexy new pair of shoes, soon deteriorated into self-loathing because I had fallen off the minimalist wagon once again. I hated the fact that I had succumbed to consumerism so easily. But I loved the shoes.

For weeks, a battle raged within. I had committed to minimalism. That meant that I was supposed to be getting rid of things, not taking on more. But the shoes were just so cute! They looked so good on, and they were so sexy (just in time for vacation, too!). The conflict was such that I kept the shoes in their boxes, unworn, with their receipts for more than two weeks.

Last week, I returned both pairs of shoes. I took them back for a number of reasons. I have no place to store them. The heels were high, so they had limited practicality. But what bothered me was the fact that I was failing as a minimalist.

Having returned them, I do not miss them. I don’t feel that their absence leaves a gaping hole in my wardrobe. Life is going on as usual — even without the shoes. So why did I feel that I needed those shoes in the first place? It makes me wonder about the rest of the crap that I own.


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