Day 18/30: Things I Won't Be Buying Today

I have a confession to make.

Even though the subject of my 30 day blog is 'Things I Won't Be Buying Today', I've been buying everything that isn't nailed down.

In observance of Lent, I decided to restrict my food intake, from Ash Wednesday until Easter Sunday, for the first two meals of each day. Wanting to be pious and at the same time lose some weight, Lent serves as a fine motivation for lots of Catholics. It's a jumping off point for better habits and more thoughtful consumption. 

Over the last two years, stress, cortisol and the pandemic have served as my regular excuses for the expansion of my waistline but if I'm being honest, I should be touting my fondness for tortilla chips, alcohol and abject laziness. The 'Lead me not into temptation' Lenten fasting was going well until about ten days in when I began panicking. I started overeating at night and I started buying things online to fill what was becoming a dark hollow inside of me.

It's a pattern one of my friends (a shopper beyond compare) and I talk about all the time. Why do we skimp in one area and then feel as though we need to splurge in another? Are we simply creatures craving balance or does it go deeper? 

For me, I think it's because perceived lack and I don't play well together. 

Here in my comfortable home I have what I need at any given moment, but there are some deeply sown seeds in me that make 'lack' almost unbearably uncomfortable, whether perceived or real. When I feel a deep emptiness, I overcompensate in other areas. Lately I have been overcompensating by shopping online. A spring jacket here, a craft project there, organic coffee here, a few books I've been wanting to read there. My mail carrier used to be able to simply put my mail in the box but the last few weeks she has been wearing down a path from her truck to my door, brown cardboard boxes balanced on both hips.

This consumption makes me feel bloated and gross. It is not pious. And I'm certainly not losing any weight.

Today, tortilla chips in hand because my Lenten eating plan lasted only two weeks, I'm cleaning out emails when a few pairs of high platform 70s style sandals come to my attention.

Be still my disco heart. These are my absolute favorite kind of footwear. And for a moment I forget about how my spending totally needs to be hog tied. I forget about Lent. I forget about Karen the mail carrier and her harried expression as she limps up my driveway laden with packages.

 

 

 

I begin picturing them lined up in my closet...in all three available colors. I picture skipping this month's car payment so that I may buy them all, painting my toenails bright coral and slipping into them to the funky sounds of KC and the Sunshine Band. I see myself boogieing out to the driveway in them and telling tired beleaguered Karen she's not going to be delivering any more packages. I have found Nirvana in these shoes. They are all I need.

But then I burp from the chips and wake myself up and ask, when am I ever going to wear these? 

Fifteen years ago I had sandals like this. I had them in four different hues and textures. Yes they were high but who cared? My balance was perfect. I was strong. I moved like a young and unencumbered woman. But now, I am indolent and my footwear reflects how boring I have become. I like sneakers, yes, I do. I like the walking variety that doesn't rub too hard on the backs of my soft heels. And I like clogs for the occasions when the sneakers betray me and I become bloody and blistered. I own lots of flip flops, but these days they have a supportive arch. I have a perfect pair of wool mules for when I am in the house, which, during the last twenty four months, has been an awful damn lot.

But these? Oh my God, these ivory platform Saturday Night Fever shoes are my siren song. I see myself in faded bell bottoms and a gray t-shirt sporting the faded name of a college I've never attended. I want to layer southwestern turquoise bracelets on my wrists and slide silver chunky rings on every finger. This is my look, right? I am most like me when wearing things like this, right? 

Let's be real. I haven't worn stuff like this in a couple of years. And I miss it. And that makes me really sad today.

Far too content in my black yoga pants, gray wool slippers and my ancient brown fleece jacket, I am not funkadellic. I'm not even presentable. And looking at these sandals, for the last five minutes, I ask myself why. Why have I decided that it's acceptable to feel less like me? Why have I decided that a cocoon spun of fleece, spandex and wool is my fate? It might be comfy but it's certainly not captivating.

So, I won't be buying these sandals today but I won't be buying tortilla chips either. What I will be investing in is myself and my well being. I'll take a long walk and listen to a motivational speaker, one who tells me I don't need more of anything to be satisfied. One who tells me what I am, who I am, and where I am, is enough. 

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