May 13, 2012

Two shoes


One day in seventh grade I wore two different shoes to school. Sometimes teen sensitivity to appearance gets lost in an adolescent fog. They were, granted, the same color, brown, but two obviously different varieties of loafer. I didn’t realize it until I was sitting in my first class, looking down in disbelief, and gasping with silent horror. My feet immediately huddled together, for mutual protection, under my desk. What is more ridiculous than two different shoes? I might as well have dropped out of school and run away with the circus. I looked around. Nobody was pointing and laughing. I was swiftly punctual to every class that morning, quickly seated at my desk, and poring over a book. I was distant and socially unengaged. I was in a state of metaphysical teen dread. At lunch, I hurried home and changed. To my great relief, and somewhat to my chagrin, nobody seemed to have noticed.


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