They told me I’d always wanted red shoes when I was little: but when it was offered I wasn’t so keen. My shoes weren’t dainty things to grace a little girl’s feet, they were clumpy, misshapen things to accommodate my non-standard feet and to fit into the steel calipers that I wore on each leg.
Did I really want to draw more attention to this ugly design by wearing them like red flags? “Look at me” they’d say, but for all the wrong reasons. Even at that young age I recognised poor design, and a failure to even try to give a little girl a pretty pair of shoes.
“No, I’ll have them in brown” I said.
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