A pair of ugly green leather loafers that showed up on my doorstep one morning, unexpected. They caught me by surprise. I had to take them, even though I truly hated them. They were completely foreign to everything I was. But I couldn't give them away, and I couldn't throw them away. I tried to forget about them, to push them to the dirty closet floor of my subconscious, buried under piles of clothes, bags, and shoes. But they were always there. I hadn't chosen to have them, it wasn't MY decision, it wasn’t fair. Why me?
I lived in denial for quite a long time. But after a while, I became less disgusted with them. Sometimes, I’d even take them out of my closet when I was sure no one was watching, and look at them. But I’d always end up putting them back.
I was still nervous about letting anyone know I had them, but one muggy day in North Carolina, I showed them to Mary and Izzy. They didn’t think they were gross or ugly or undesirable at all, as I had feared people would think.
Those two friends made a world of difference to me. I became increasingly comfortable in them, I wore them more and more proudly. I learned to love the faded green color, I got to know every crease in the leather, trace it with my fingers. I polished them ‘til they shone like gold.
Now I no longer hide them. I love them as part of myself. Some people don’t like them, they say they’re disgusting and to never talk to them again. But those people aren’t worth my time, anyway.
This is who I am, this is me.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
I found this to be a great piece!