by Dustee Mourning

Created on: January 31, 2009

One of the worst few memories I have about falling in front of someone are actually about falling in public... in front of several people in our local mall. Since I was rather young, and do not wish reveal my age with an actual year, many women will relate to this particular time.

The shoes were so adorable; they first retailed in the basic colors of black, white, blue and the occasional red. The shoes were versatile enough to wear with anything in a woman's closet, no matter the season. These were the perfect shoes and many pairs were sold. They were cute, fashionable and were the greatest item to add to the casual closet. I had to buy my share of them.

Remember, ladies? Do you remember those horrible shoes that were flat, closed in, and had NO grip on the bottoms? My worst enemy was a toss up between a wet, slick floor and a newly waxed floor. In the mall, it seems the floors were never waxed or buffed until those 'flats' were pushed in front of us in every store and at any price. Sometimes I felt it was a conspiracy, and often wondered if there were hidden cameras recording the slipping, sliding and falling that occurred so frequently in these dream shoes! And since my closet had too many pairs of these shoes, I had to find places I could wear them. Church was about the only place I felt safe in them -our church had carpeting -unless I wanted to spend a good part of my day outside on grass... but it had to be very dry grass.

After the 'slippery slope' shoe craze passed, I was in reminded one day of these awkward transporters. While in the same little mall, I witnessed deja vu. A young lady was walking along so gracefully, like she had some very important business to take care of so she didn't make eye contact or share a friendly 'hello', when all of a sudden, right in front of my eyes, one of her feet slipped out from under her graceful trot. She landed on her posterior section, stood up, looked at the floor where she had fallen and mumbled those very familiar words, "Damned floor!", as she walked on her way. For a split second, I remembered that embarrassing feeling, along with that silent pain from the impact, and the wounded pride that came with such adorable shoes.

Some memories don't seem fair to remember... Like me, and so many other 'fall' victims of fashion, I have no doubt she went home and trashed the shoes! I noticed, too, that I reacted toward her the same way others had reacted when I fell with my shoes: we all knew the real source of the fall, but the floor was easiest to blame. The falling party felt embarrassment and the witnesses of such falls realized the embarrassment just by knowing the cause. The witnesses all played the same roles, slowing down their walking pace while watching to ensure the falling party was able to get up and move on. Had the falling party stayed on the floor due to injuries, I know I would stop to help. I can only hope this is how others felt for me when I was the one on the floor trying desperately to ignore watchers.

With these memories, even today when I see a pair of 'flat' heel shoes, I have to pick them up and inspect the soles to insure there is a good bit of safety now included.

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