Just the right height, and the exact color I was looking for. Seemed so perfect, designed beautifully, but ultimately structurally weak. I had been searching for a very long time. No hesitation, today would be the day. The quintessential nude pump would become mine.
Not A Fit
Nonessential thoughts regularly burrow into my gray matter, leaching more useful information.
Gray Matters
Whether it’s my parietal lobe that combines words into thoughts, or my temporal lobe which regulates language that causes my synapses to clog with minutia is unknown to me. None the less, years ago I heard the effervescent television host Kathy Lee Gifford command that we as women “must never go to sleep with our makeup on.” I filed that bit, and follow that edict. I never, never go to bed with makeup on.
Listening to Kathy Lee
A similar unimportant factoid occupies a slender space in my brain. When the words “find the color nude shoe that matches your skin tone, and you will always look good” bounced from the mouth of an overdressed TV style guru, I took heed and went searching for my perfect match, fit as it were. I’ve been looking for years.
The very effeminate uber hip guy at a trendy makeup counter told me my skin tone was unmatchable. “Mama we just don’t have a foundation shade for you. Your skin color is so unusual. Very yellow, with an undertone of…” I stopped listening. With chemists corralled in labs eight hours a day doing nothing but formulating foundations it didn’t seem possible that I was “unmatchable.” How could that be? I left. Dejected. Apart. Alone.
How would I ever be able to find my “just right” nude colored shoes if I didn’t know what color my face was. Doomed, I was doomed. As a painter, former textile designer, and probably the only kid that wanted to hang a poster of master color theorist, Joseph Albers in her dorm room, I fully understand the nuance of color. Color theory postulates that it is almost impossible to see a color in isolation. Color is always seen in relation to it’s surroundings. Given that fact, it would seem as if I would have to stand next to something, or somebody for all eternity if I could ever hope to fit in.
But there they were, my perfect shoes. The kiss of blue in the particular shade of gray/taupe/beige was just subtle enough to compliment the yellow of my skin. All in all I found the skin-shoe theory incomprehensible, as my face is very far from my feet, and I knew I would never wear the shoes without tights, ergo, you would never see my actual skin tone, merely the color of whatever hosiery I would wear.
And then, there they were. Just like that line, when you least expect it…that’s when you’ll meet him, or just adopt and you’ll get pregnant they say. There was no “just” for me in becoming pregnant.
No Place
Baby Making Tools
The nameless area between my upper thigh and my backside became the pincushion where I injected myself with fertility drugs for years in the ceaseless effort to become a mother.
Box of Tears
Time after time I was reduced to tears over sentimental Kleenex commercials that showed a devoted mother wiping tears from her child’s eye. I had become desperate to have a child of my own. No adoption. I was married in 1984. My first daughter was born in 1989. I noticed the shoes because I had been looking for the shoes.
They weren’t directly in the shop window, but I saw them. I saw them because I had been searching for my perfect gray, taupe, beige shoes forever. And now seamlessly there they were. Just an ordinary shopping trip, in an ordinary mall, but I spotted them out of the corner of my eye.They were out of my size. A swift special order was dispatched to the New York store, and within days “my shoes” were at my door.
My assaultive unwrap had my feet in those shoes in less than two minutes. I knew instantly we were not a match. They didn’t fit. But they were my size. They were supposed to fit me. They were ordered especially for me. But they didn’t fit. Which didn’t mean I didn’t wear them. Oh, I wore them. And they looked amazing.
Jill and daughters Dixie and Zazu
The tights were the same hue as the shoes. My skirt was short, and there was no competition of any other color to cause any distraction. I was an elegant muted masterpiece. But I couldn’t walk. I was one of those women who made the ridiculous decision to sacrifice comfort for fashion. I was wearing shoes that were achingly, if not brutally uncomfortable. But I looked fantastic, so didn’t care what I felt like.
My shoe repair guy is as skilled as a brain surgeon. He deftly reconstructs leather and suede as if he were trained to do a craniotomy. A craniotomy is the surgical removal of part of the bone from the skull to expose the brain. Specialized tools are used to remove the section of bone called the bone flap. The bone flap is temporarily removed, then replaced after the brain surgery has been performed.
If The Shoe Fits
My shoe guy has done his best to make my shoes comfortable enough to actually wear. But in this instance there will be no “if the shoe fits, wear it.” He has stretched the toe box, three times, and has either put in or removed parts and, different parts. Adrian is master tradesman. He has made some of my old shoes look new, and has reblacked bags more than thirty years old, giving them new life, making the leather look virgin.
Classic Black
But he couldn’t save these. I stood at the counter in the shop which smells like carnauba wax and shoe polish, and with all the earnest concern of a dedicated surgeon, he told me that while he hoped it would work, he couldn’t guarantee that I would ever be able to wear the shoes again. We have a cordial relationship. We like each other. He knows my mom. He cares about my comfort. But I didn’t care what he said, I wore the shoes again, and still again.
There is that man. The “him”. The right height, beautiful skin tone. Gorgeous from afar. A match. A fit. It’s on. And then you go out. So not a fit. So not a match. But it’s seductive, fun, sexy, intriguing, flattering, the pumped up excuses for being where you shouldn’t are endless. But you know. It’s irrefutable. For whatever reason, you know. He’s too ________, fill in the blank, or not enough… We know. But it doesn’t stop us. We go out again.
It Was My Him
My him (or one of my him’s) was so wrong for me, and I knew in a nanosecond. Our first date lasted nine hours. Our mismatch, two and a half years. Our ill-fitting love brought me to the jagged, splintered edge of darkness. I beat that horse to death trying to make us fit. Couldn’t be done.
It broke my heart to let him go, but finally I was able to care more about how much it hurt to keep him in my life. Ironically for Christmas one year he gave me a pair of shoes. In fact, he gave me boots, more his style than mine. I returned them and got the shoes I wanted. The shoes that fit me best.
The Fit
For All The Ladies
My gray/taupe/beige shoes are so beautiful. But not right for me. The heels will go into the bag I’ll bring to The Susan B. Anthony Recovery Center, along with other things that would best be used by somebody else.
Susan B. Anthony Recovery Center
The center is the only home in South Florida where women can live with their children as they venture toward recovery, and loving themselves, again, or maybe for some the first time. While I have never struggled with the addiction of an actual substance, I have been face to face with learning to love myself, trying so hard to learn to pay attention to what works for me, and not letting “him” be my drug.
Unmatchable
I have purchased every single type of foundation there is. Cream, powder, whipped, cream-to-powder, liquid, liquid in bottles, liquid in applicators and so on. I have bought foundations that cost as much as a pair of shoes, and foundations which I have gotten at the dollar store.
It's A Match Baby
Ironically, the foundation I wear, and have been wearing for the last couple of years is made by Maybelline, and is named FIT. I am FIT310. There you have it.
Back in Black
My beautiful black suede wedge platform shoes are in my closet. They are lovely, but not perfect. Recently I sat fourth row center at the Adrian Arsht Center, watching the Miami City Ballet. Skilled dancers bodies look indeed perfect. That may be the illusion, but sitting as close as I was, I was keenly aware of their ordinary frailties. Equally apparent was the raw sexual energy between the partners.
Space is the Opportunity - Keith Haag
They create spaces for each other to go in and out of, and they make allowances for each other.
They move quickly to correct errors and make it seem effortless. They are trained, they practice, and they have each been dancing for years. They do not practice to be perfect. They seem perfect because they practice. And they forgive themselves and each other in an instant when something goes wrong, so as to be able to carry on.
The theory of force is defined as anything that can cause change. There is a sub-theory which asks how much force will need to be exerted upon one object before that object comes toward that force. There will never be anything forced in a significant relationship of any kind for me again, ever.
Halo Eaters - Jason Shaun Alexander
No longer a power figure, and someone with less power, more pain. There is no winner in a forced arrangement. No one that doesn’t suffer. (Punching someone in the mouth causes just as much force on the fist as on the lips. It’s just that the lips are more delicate. The forces are equal, but not the levels of pain and injury.) – Light and Matter — Benjamin Crowell
The man who will enter my life will be a good enough fit. He will not erase friction from our interactions, but he will be forgiving. He will not lead, I will not follow. We will partner in the space we share. He will not be the equivalent of a well-worn pair of slippers, but the fit will be exquisitely comfortable.
One Step At A Time
Like that moment of slipping out of a pair of heels and being home.
Irreversible Opportunity
We will fit into each others arms, hearts, minds and souls, and make ample space for error, mistakes, and misspoken words.The soundtrack for our combined life will include every tempo, and every sound, with neither voice dominating, with each of us being heard and listening. This love will seem perfect, but it won’t be, it will just be perfect enough.
I don’t wear flip-flops ever, nor do I wear open back shoes very often. I prefer to wear more supportive footwear. And that is the only kind of relationship I want to be in. It, he/we will be supportive, and built on a solid foundation, easy to be part of.
The dancers make every open space look as if it opens to invite another dancer in. There is no struggle, no push, no pull, just an opportunity for entry. And that is what I offer. Just an opportunity, not perfection.
Back in Black Baby
So I’m back to black. Still lookin for those perfect nude pumps…
Raw Opportunity
Blind – Jason Derulo
Love made me blind, so I couldn’t see
All the lies you told were right in front of me
Since love made me blind you made a fool out of me
You made it look so perfect when it wasn’t meant to be
Your love made me blind
Turning Tables – Adele
…Next time I’ll be braver, I’ll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet
What If – Jason Derulo
What if?
What if Im’ the one for you?
And you’re the one for me?
What if?
Unwritten Raw. I have been selected to read at Lipservice, “The most popular literary event in Miami” January 28th. Tickets on sale for “Culture Clash” www.lipservicestories.com Hope to meet you!
HeartCamp- I will be speaking about my family’s experience with Parental Alienation – February 4, 2012 http://heartcamp.org/
DBA 2012 – I will be reading Raw January 25 www.artistsdoingbusinessas.com
Pioneer Winter – Artist in Residence at Legal Art. A stunning dancer. He will be performing at Deering Estate on February 18, 2012 http://www.knightarts.org/community/miami/pioneer-winter-dances-for-social-change
Susan B. Anthony Recovery Center http://susanbanthonycenter.org/
My friend and neuroscientist and yoga teacher Gabe Axel http://skandayoga.com/archives/1156
Irreversible International Art Project
http://www.irreversiblemagazine.com/
Keith Haag – http://rawartwerks.com/
Javier Mayoral http://uspacegallery.com/javiermayoral.htm
18 Rabbit Gallery http://www.18rabbitgallery.com/
Just in Case – My seminal post on why Raw Candor launched https://rawcandor.wordpress.com/2011/12/12/just-in-case/
If you would like to submit a piece to write Raw, please contact me at jill@rawcandor for guidelines.
Raw Candor 
go Jill is simply getting better and better!!!!
thank you so much
Once more you have shared from the deepest recesses of your HEART. I am so GRATEFUL for your HONESTY. You ROCK. Thank you for sharing this with the WORLD Jill. LOVE you so, Girlfriend. Am so PROUD to know you.
it is through you and all of you that i come to know myself.
thank you.