v.19 So, This Is Middle Age? Orthotics and Other Betrayals (a sad storyđ)
Welcome to Life, Createdâa new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
Ah, middle age-ishâthe phase of life where your body starts sending out passive-aggressive memos that it's no longer interested in how youâd like it to behave. Aside from now wearing prescription readers, suddenly the soles that carried me through late-night NYC adventures and questionable shoe choices are now staging a silent protest against me. And let me just say: these attacksâif you willâare starting to feel very personal.
Another wake-up call came recently when my feet, my formerly reliable foundation, decided they needed âextra supportââwhich, frankly, I found to be super shady. I mean, I get pedicures every other week; why wouldnât my feet be a bit nicer to me, considering all I do for them?! Alas.
I tried to pretend the podiatrist wasnât serious, but there I was, holding a pair of custom orthotics and wondering how I had arrived at this weird place. The real shitshow, though? My first private test run was sliding them into my high-top black suede Vansâ one of my go-to looks for feeling effortlessly cool. It felt like I was betraying some unspoken pact between my younger self (hey girl, hey!) and my current reality.
The whole thing was awkwardâjust so weird. I waited until I was home alone, then forcefully slid the orthotics in, like I was trying to smuggle drugs past airport security. When I finally put them on and stood up, my feet sighed with relief, but my pride took a bit of a hit. I mean, when did this happen? How did I go from my carefree days spent barefoot on a yoga mat or fashionably wearing cowboy boots to this? The same Vans that used to pair perfectly with cut-offs now carried the secret shame of arch support. Damn, life will get ya, wonât it?
a few beloved pairs in my collectionâŠ
this is shameful.
But the real heartbreak came with my cowboy boots. These boots are my armorâworn, reliable, and unapologetically me. Iâve been wearing these beauties decades before Bey went country. But trying to cram orthotics into them? That was next level logistical chaos. The insoles were way too big, and I found myself stomping around the house like I was breaking in a pair of hiking boots, trying to make it work. For a second, I considered giving up on them altogether, but that felt like surrendering a part of who I am.
(Side note: Back in my fashion days, one unnamed designer actually told me to stop âstomping through the showroom with cowboy boots on.â I politely asked if heâd like to find someone else to fill my position. True story. Also, I donât stomp. Ever. He was being an asshole.)
Eventually, I decided that feet be damned, my cowboy boots would stay orthotic-less for the time being. Iâm still trying to find a middle ground between the person I was and the person Iâm becoming. My late forties seems to be full of these small compromisesâthese quiet moments of reckoning. But what Iâm learning is that adapting doesnât mean losing myself but insteadâ inserting a little extra support and carrying on. In Vans, in cowboy boots, and in life.
Middle age: we didnât ask for it, but damn if weâre not making it fabulous. Ish. Now go forth and celebrate the absurd brilliance of lifeâs middle chapters. (And donât forget to force your orthotics into your shoes on the way out.)
Every essay features a section called âOne Fine Microjoyâ â an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst lifeâs ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
The world feels unbearably harsh at times, doesnât it? But every so often, thereâs a small act of kindness that softens the edges. Like last week, when I saw a to-go bag at a cafĂ©. Instead of just a name scrawled on it, the barista added a little sketch of a catâsimple, thoughtful, and entirely unexpected. It was such a quiet, lovely gesture, reminding me that even in times like these, people are still out here choosing kindness. And my goodness, couldnât we all use more of this right now?
Thatâs all for today. Thanks for reading Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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