Showing posts with label attitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label attitude. Show all posts

Saturday, October 3, 2026

"Wide Foot"


My hunt yesterday for a pair of nice shoes to wear to my 50th high school reunion almost ended with my head exploding like some cartoon character! Trying to keep within a tight budget, I’d already scoured Walmart and Target for simple black pumps in my very typical size 7W. For customer convince, my newly reshuffled Walmart actually clustered all of their Women’s Wide shoes together on one wall! Unfortunately, there were a million of each size but mine. My personal theory is that more women wear sevens than any other size. My broader, wider foot, though, throws an obstacle that limits my selections.  My heart aches for those long ago days of strolling confidently into Payless and emerging with pumps, sandals, and  lacy slip-ons in at least three colors. 

I decided to try finding shoes at Famous Footwear in The Forum. Heading straight to my size, I noted immediately that none of the boxes had W on the labels. Puzzled, I found an older sales clerk and asked for the location of their wide shoes.

“We don’t carry wide shoes,” she began. “What size are you?” I followed her as she began her condescending lecture that women are misled into believing they have wide feet and instead aren’t buying the correct style or toe shape. 

My jaw dropped (again like a cartoon character) as she swept up to my size and began pointing out pumps with pointed toes verses more square ones while claiming it was propaganda that women have wide feet. 

“Prove it!” I snapped. “Prove that I don’t have wide feet!”

She began sweeping through my size, handed me two selections and suggested I try them on while she continued her search. 

Of course, shoe after shoe after shoe WOULDN’T fit. I couldn’t even get my toes past several of her choices. 

After trying on half a dozen pairs, I stood up and snarled, “Don’t ever tell a customer that there’s no such thing as a wide foot. YOU ARE WRONG!” 


  I pushed down my pissed anger, worked it out by walking down to the SKECHERS shop where I’ve devotedly purchased my D’lites year after year. Since I’ve only picked up walking shoes there, I wasn’t certain if I’d find anything dressier for my event. 

When I glanced around, I did’t notice anything at first and asked a smiling young clerk if they had any wide shoes, not realizing that the large sign was right behind me! I couldn’t help but laugh at the wonderful acknowledgement that women who have wide feet do exist!

Although my selection for black pumps was limited, I shifted to a dressy pair of black sandals that had sparkly straps! Sparkle means fancy to my unique fashion sense. Before I left, I also found a pair of comfy black ankle high boots for this winter—all with WIDE proudly placed on the boxes!






Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


 

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

"Old Lady Hands"



 

            This morning, I stretched catlike before getting out of bed. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed my left hand. An old lady’s hand. When did that happen? My mental “picture” of myself froze itself at age 35 years old.
            I knew this duality of self would happen. One time Dad quipped that he found himself looking at his reflection in a window with a confused, “Who’s that old man?” before he realized it was him! Mom, too, once quipped while getting her hair cut that the older woman before her didn’t match what she saw when she closed her eyes.
            Most of the time, I don’t see the added weight my body carries or the crinkles fanning out from my eyes. This morning, however, my old lady hands shocked me into my own 66 year-old body with enough force that I had to document my realization. Sagging boobs, wrinkled knees, and crepey neck mark my daily reality.
            Of course . . . if I don’t wear my glasses? I’m back to 35!



Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman       

Sunday, April 9, 2023

"Mind Set"

  




Mind set   
upon happiness   
delighting in summer rain   
a quiet day   
or numbers adding up   
a gooey piece of cheese pizza   
soothing wine   
or a crazy dance of joy   
or following a rainbow   
Mind set   
upon contentment   
a long, lazy nap   
a canopy of green leaves   
or a perfect rose   
starlit nights of lovemaking   
or a song carried on the wind   
the passion of our love   
or a single, simple promise   
Mind set   




















Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


Tuesday, February 28, 2023

"Beyond Grumpiness"

 

Caregivers know how easy it is to get exhausted

           Yesterday, I dumped grumpiness in the dirt and spiraled into pure unadulterated bitch. Lack of sleep over the last few nights culminated in fatigue wrought crankiness that spewed out in tone of voice and body language. My attitude, to put it bluntly, sucked—all day. This irritability devoured my usual grin, replacing it with a smirk of derision and intolerance for barking dogs, barfing cats, and demanding mothers.
           Yesterday, I snapped and snarled like a harpy. I rolled my eyes at every request. I slumped, slunk, and dragged my way to and from the laundry room, kitchen, bathroom . . . any room that demanded my attention. I yanked wet clothes out of the washer, wrestled them into the dryer, and then wadded them into the laundry baskets instead of neatly folding each item. I slung dress shirts onto the top of the machine in the hope that they will miraculously hang themselves. I refused to enter the room in fear that the pile would taunt me and tumble my mood into an abyss.
           Yesterday, I grumbled and groaned each time the phone rang with a wrong number or a sales pitch. I bit my tongue when I found out a guitar I ordered hadn’t shipped out as promised. I wrapped myself in a blanket of funk and poured myself a huge cup of pity. I sat alone, gulping down every last drop in petulant perversity.
           But . . . today shines bright and sings true!





Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Friday, November 18, 2011

"You're Not What I Want"

You strut into my life, mirrors for your eyes.   
Bragging on your style and worth, all to cover lies.   
          You demand worship, attention thrown your way.   
          Staging life’s events, you’re an actor in a play.   
                    You’re not what I want, so I’m stepping away.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m leaving you today.

  
You take and take cruelly, all that I can give.   
Draining all my love from me, just so you can live.   
          You see no one else, feed only your dark needs.   
          Ignoring all the hearts you break with your selfish deeds.   
                     You're not what I want, so I'm stepping away.   
                     You're not what I want, so I'm leaving you today.   

You expect to hold the world’s blind devotion.   
Feigning love and care, your spirit lacks emotion.   
          You think I should thankfully kneel at your feet.   
          Allowing the abusive cycle to repeat.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m stepping away.   
                     You’re not what I want, so I’m leaving you today.   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman


Monday, October 24, 2011

“Tone of Voice”

I’m okay, fine   
she whispers without eye contact   
I’ve got it handled   
Don’t worry   
He misses the hollowness of her words   
overlooks her subtle cues—   
her Woman Speak   
She tucks her feet onto the couch,   
pulls herself into a tight ball under a red throw   
stares at the television without seeing   
sighing deeply    
Oblivious, he flips the channel     
to his station   
assuming—   
all’s right   
content to listen to her words   
instead of her tone of voice   
Her annoyance and sadness battle across her features   
surreptitiously, she wipes her silent tears   
waits for him to notice her heaviness   
His attention rivets on the game   
its motion mesmerizes him   
takes him away and isolates her   
She grabs hold of anger over sorrow   
indignation throws her off the couch   
propels her into their bedroom   
fuels the door slam   
He sits with bewilderment   
lost     
Cautiously, he approaches the closed door   
tentatively tapping   
Can I do something?   
No. I’m okay, fine     
I’ve got it handled   
Don’t worry   
He opens the door anyway   
pulls her into his arms   
In tenderness, he wipes the tears from her face   
We’ll handle it   
he soothes and reassures with understanding   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman