Whatever else you have on your mind,
Wherever else you think you're going,
Stop for a moment and look where you are:
You Have Arrived!

New Shoes! New Shoes!

by Kaye Bailey

Even though many days of my childhood were sad because of my obesity I will always fondly remember going back to school at the end of each summer. There was a certain excitement, a sense of anticipation, an eagerness for learning, and an unfounded mystical belief that THIS would be the year that I would fit in. This would be the year my fatness would go away and I would become one of the pretty perky girls with tons of friends and loads of giggles. Each new school year brought renewed hope that at last I might belong.

I suppose my child-like hope came from believing in the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Santa Clause and Sleeping Beauty. After all, don’t these make-believe icons convince us that dreams do come true? So why not a night-visiting gossamer-winged cherub to sprinkle me with magic dust that I might awaken pretty, thin and happy? Was this too much to imagine? Was this too much to ask? For a child having no idea why I was fat, nor any idea what to do about it, hope was all I had.

On the first day of second grade it was a pair of new shoes that gave me opportunity to belong in a world that seemed, at times, terribly cruel. These were not just any school shoes. I wore new black velvet oxford shoes that were as soft as a kitten. I won a battle with my mother to have these shoes. They were not practical or sturdy, she argued. They would quickly scuff and wear out. But in an uncustomary tantrum I insisted on having these beautiful black velvet shoes.

Mrs. Sailor, a short rotund teacher with a head of crazy gray hair, welcomed the students to her classroom. She asked my name and I pointed my foot forward and answered, "My name is Kaye and these are my new shoes." Mrs. Sailor had a knack for making her students feel cherished. On that first day of the second grade she brought this Little Fat Girl to the front of the classroom and taught my classmates to sing "New shoes, new shoes, Kaye has new shoes." And I reveled in the attention, taking turns holding forward each chubby leg so all my classmates could admire my beautiful new shoes. It was a magical day in my young life.

And so I floated back to class the next day wearing my black velvet shoes and an invisible crown of belonging. I sang "New Shoes" all the way to school. Imagine my heartbreak when it was another student Mrs. Sailor brought to the front of the class, this time a toothless boy named Philip who pulled the bloody stump of a incisor from his pocket to show the class. My gig was up! Mrs. Sailor dumped me for a toothless boy. I was no longer a special girl with pretty shoes. I was just a Little Fat Girl lost in a sea of second grade faces.

Through the years there would be more moments to shine and more slaps from reality as I learned new shoes get scuffed and the gossamer-winged cherub was a fairy tale created by the hopeful imagination of a Little Fat Girl. Yet, in spite of the harsh knocks of childhood, I never lost that sense of anticipation when the new school year arrived. There was always hope that this would be the magical year of belonging. I still feel the "back to school" excitement today: a sense of hope and anticipation, a new chance to make good on old promises, an opportunity to move to the front of the class and show-off my new shoes.

© 2005-2007 Kaye Bailey - All Rights Reserved