What is this strange fascination I have with slip-on shoes?

I was browsing through the on-line malls randomly looking for a pair of shoes to buy and found myself doing this…

swipe, tap, enlarge, “hmmmm, too much shoe lace,”

tap, swipe, swipe, enlarge, pause, “hmmm, nice boot, too tall and doesn’t have a zipper, has laces”

tap, swipe, swipe, “hmmm, love it…but can’t slip on, have to pull on,”

swipe, tap, “ugh, shoe laces”.

Suddenly I realized the only shoe I was looking for was a slip-on. In fact, I have spent the last year looking for the perfect slip-on clog.

When did that happen?

When did my shoe preference change to shoes that took no effort to get on? No bending over, no pulling on, no tightening shoe laces. Just stand-up and push your foot into the shoe.

There seems to be a multitude of “rites-of-passage” on aging…those little things that everyone experiences and suddenly you realize that you are getting older. Rites-of-passage are unique because you remember these from when you were young…they were the little things old people did.

I remember my very first one…getting on the elevator and watching some old person rocking out to the Muzak. Imagine my shock when I stepped on an elevator during my early 30’s and heard one of my favorite songs from my youth playing in a new, slightly softer rendition over the Muzak. Imagine how disconcerting that was to find myself tapping to the beat and humming along. Thank goodness there wasn’t any teenagers or kids in the elevator.

Or the first time someone called me, “Ma’am,” the US version of madam where we swallow the “d”. This is supposed to be the polite form of addressing an older woman. I just found it rude. I can remember as a kid watching other women being called “Ma’am” and thinking, “She is old.”

Of course, I made that bagger at the grocery store carry my bags out to car and run and exchange a few things. That will show him. Take those young spry legs on a bit of jaunt and see if you call me Ma’am again. But, who understands those passive aggressive moves anymore. Now I was just old and a bitch. Nice.

And now I have slip-on shoes. I can remember watching one of my Uncles, who was a big guy, getting ready to go somewhere. He had graduated to jumpsuits and couldn’t bend over. All his shoes were a type of clog that you just had to slip into. No bending over, no lace ups, no struggling to get your shoes on. Just walk right up and slip your foot in.


Yup, I remember thinking, “He is too old and big to bend over and put real shoes on.”

Great, and I’m a little worried that I was shopping for overalls which I realize is a modified jumpsuit.