I have had a life long love affair with shoes. Put me in a potato sack with mile high red stillettos and I'm good to go.

It's not something I can control or understand it is an obsession. Pink ones, red ones, plain black and blue ones. I get them for Christmas, my birthday and a "what the hell" day. It makes me ridiculously sad when I must throw away a pair that has been worn into the ground. My shoes must be literally unwearable, before they no longer grace my closet. I take them to a cobbler, hoping that they can rebuild them, make them faster and stronger than before. Just don't tell me that my shoes have died!

There are still pairs of shoes I mourn.

The great and I mean great pair of strappy white sandals I had in high school (I made those bad boys last four years!), the pair of gold strappy pumps I wore to my Senior prom (at least I have pictures), a pair of lilac purple pumps that I wore until the heel snapped off. I don't buy shoes just for the sake of the shoe, there's something I look for, that factor that says "Eureka!". I'm picky and just a bit of a snob. The shoes must be gorgeous and they've got to make my feet and calves look good. I have small feet and as such they can look stumpy in the wrong shoe (a nightmare for a short woman, don't make me look ANY shorter please!).

I can't do square toes and can sometimes just get away with a rounded toe. I just bought a pair of rounded toe pumps, that are black, white and sliver. I didn't even think, they made me drool so I bought the shoes. If I find a shoe I love, and they have them in six different colors, God has smiled on me and I get to buy six pairs of shoes in one day.

Espadrilles and mules, clogs, pumps, high heels, sandals, stilettos, peep toe, open toe, sling backs, runners, cross trainers. The list goes on and on and on.

My husband just doesn't understand the bowels of despair I go into when I don't find the shoe I'm looking for. A couple of years ago we went on a trip and I wanted a pair of black Espadrilles with ballerina ties. We did not find them before our trip and I was pissed. Not just a little put out. I searched every shoe store within fifty miles and could not find those @#$*&^ shoes! Men, most of them don't get the shoe thing. Alas my poor little husband is one of those. If I come home with three pairs of shoes, he has a little crease that pops out in his forehead.

Let's not tell him about the seven I brought home yesterday. He wouldn't understand.

My mother tells me that ever since I was a little girl and we would go shopping for school clothes we would come home with bags of things and all I could remember or care about was "I got new shoes!". What is it about a little piece of foot wear that makes women such as myself bombastic?

If I knew the answer to that question and how to build a bridge to Hawaii I could rule the world!!

I promise myself that one day, I'll have Carrie Bradshaw shoe money. To hell with Mr. Big I want her shoes!