If I had to describe myself, one term that I would never use is “fashion conscious”. I spent my working life having to look semi-presentable, wearing shirts and ties and, on occasion, a suit. Now I can spend my life in a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and even dispense with the latter when lounging around the house. Given that, who cares what they look like? She does.
My lack of interest in things sartorial is a constant thorn in the side of she who must be obeyed. Apparently I manage to screw up even something as simple as matching colours between a T-shirt and shorts. If she remembers, she lays out something appropriate for me to wear. If she doesn’t remember, then I am often greeted with “you are not going out dressed like that!” And I don’t.
I do believe in being clean, but think that that goal can be achieved by a maximum of five T-shirts; one to wear, with the remaining four working their way through the mysterious cycle which starts in the dirty clothes basket and ends up back in the wardrobe, pressed and smelling fresh. I often wonder how that functions.
She who must be obeyed does not share my limited T-shirt ambition. She regularly crushes my objectives by returning home with new clothing offerings for me. Yes they fit and yes they do look kinda cool; but necessary? No, but it keeps her happy and she spends her money buying me clothes so it would be churlish to complain.
Last week it was shoes. Apparently my sandals were no longer up to scratch and needed to be replaced. Admittedly, even after several washings, they were beginning to smell a bit; not just up close but from the distance between my nose and my feet. In fact even from the next room.
So down to the boring store where they sell shoes and we go through the usual routine. I pretend to be mildly interested until she offers a pair and says she likes them. I immediately agree that they are the best to be found in the shop (or probably, the world), and quickly rush off to pay for them before she changes her mind. Sometimes I find time to try them on for size.
It feels like a lifetime, but it is probably no more than fifteen minutes, and I am out of there wearing my not at all smelly new shoes. And they are actually quite smart and very comfortable, for about ten minutes. Then I discover there is a piece on the right rear strap of the sandal which is gouging a hole in my heel. By twenty minutes there is blood. Never mind the aroma, I want my old shoes back.
Back home, she who must be obeyed makes an inspection, discovers a piece sticking out of the shoe, and declares she can fix it. She gets a candle and starts dripping hot wax over the offending area. Then she gives me the shoe and tells me I have to bite it. Assuming this is part of the process, I bite down on the unpleasant mixture of warm candle wax and recently worn shoe, flavoured by a sprinkling of semi-fresh foot sweat. Not at all a pleasant experience.
Why did I have to bite my shoe?
Because it will fix the problem.
I assume that this is an ancient shoe-fixing remedy handed down from the ancients? A pearl of wisdom your snaggle-toothed grandmother whispered to you when you sat on her knee in your youth? Information so revered, it is almost held sacred. Somehow, your saliva mixes with the candle wax and, together with the pressure from the bite, forms a soft yet resilient seal on top of the shoe; such that I will never feel irritation on my heel again.
Nothing like that. We have a Thai superstition that, if you bite a new shoe, it won’t bite you when you wear it.
She giggled. I slapped her bum with the sticky shoe.
Oww, my ass hurts!
I have a remedy for that, if you can reach.
Comments 🔗
2009-06-15| Pete, frogblogger saysLMAO (before anyone can bite it)
2009-06-15| Julian saysI heard the same thing about biting shoes from a Filipina girl just yesterday. At first I thought I misheard her, she repeated it, and not any wiser I wrote it down to ‘mysteries of the Orient’. Now I understand :)
2009-06-15| Spike saysJulian, Context please, especially if it is rude.
2009-06-16| Derze saysActually, some Chinese in Malaysia practises that too. Been told by my Grandma about it long time ago when I always have this problem of being “bitten”. I tried it once, it actually worked. Minus the wax though.
2009-06-16| Spike saysClearly an Asian thing. We need to spread it to Europe. And maybe America; do they wear shoes in America?
2009-06-16| Billy saysNot any more ….. they were all bundled up, collateralised and sold off in risk based tranches, largely to Norwegian Pension Funds, in late 2007. Their subsequent loss in value (mark to market to blame of course) triggered repossession of the underlying assets and they we subsequently shipped to Stavanger where they are now lie mouldering in large warehouses specially constructed for the purpose.
2009-06-18| Spike says..and now sold as herring?