The Flip and The Flop

Have I told y'all how much I love flipflops? I really do love them. Living in the Southern US of A, we have temperatures which are mildly warm to miserably hot, with an occasional cold day thrown in here and there. I wear flipflops all year long. I sometimes wear them out and about, but I always wear them around the house. A very unfortunate event occurred today, which got me to thinking about my relationship with flipflops. I’ll tell you what happened, but first, some background.

The flipflop style sandal is an ancient shoe. Murals from Ancient Egypt from around 4000 BC depict people wearing flipflop footwear. The British Museum has a pair of Egyptian flipflops made from papyrus leaves, dated 1500 BC.  See how popular these shoes have been for centuries?

When I was a kid, I, like most kids, listened to my parents and believed the things that they said were true. Most of the time, they were. But, as I grew older, I realized that some of the things they said were actually opinions, and not necessarily truths. Take, for example, the flipflop. From my earliest days, I remember that we each had a pair of flipflops stashed away. When camping, we needed to wear flipflops when we walked into the community bathhouse to shower. Those were our ‘shower shoes’, which kept us from being in contact with whatever disease or fungus or creepy parasite was hiding in the bathhouse. We also wore our flipflops when we went to the beach or pool. My parents were very careful when selecting the proper flipflops for our family members.  They insisted that we wear flipflops that did not go between the toes, so that our skin did not get irritated or blistered. While I don’t have an actual picture of the flipflops we wore, this picture from Pinterest is pretty close. What you can see, right off the bat, is that the most noticeable feature of this type of shoe is that they are UG-LEE.

But, my parents insisted that this was the kind of flipflop we had to wear, because a thong-style flipflop would rub blisters between our big toe and the next toe. Few stores carried the band-style flipflop, so we always had to search relentlessly to find the necessary footwear, as our feet continued to grow, year after year. About the time I became a mildly rebellious teenager and I saw the casual summer shoes that my friends were wearing, I decided to buy myself a pair of flipflops—a real pair of traditional, strap between the toes flipflops. To the surprise of my parents, I wore my new flipflops at home. And, to the surprise of everyone, guess what? They did not rub blisters between my toes. They did not even feel uncomfortable between my toes. They fit my feet and they felt just fine. I realized that just because it bothered THEIR toes didn’t mean that it would bother MY toes. I was free to decide about that.

So, over the years, I have had countless numbers of flipflops and other sandals with strap between my toes, and not a complaint about any of them. Which brings me to the problem that occurred today.

I have one pair of go-to flipflops. They are Zebra-striped, with years of wear, and most of the stripes rubbed off. The Zebra flipflops are the ones I always grab when I have to throw on a quick pair of shoes, in or outside of the house. I will bypass 2 or 3 other pairs of flipflops just to grab the Zebra pair. They are comfortable, reliable, and consistent. They are worn down to fit my feet perfectly. I have had them for 10 or 15 years. A long time.  Today, one of my Zebra flipflops broke. I knew immediately that it was DOA, no hope for repair. Solemnly, I placed it into the trash bag and sighed a deep, big sigh. I felt like I had lost a close personal friend. Have you ever retired your favorite shirt, or sweater, or jacket, or boots, or other personal item? Do you know what I mean?

I am wearing a different pair of flipflops now. It's not the same, but it will do. I’ve actually been grooming this pair of Silver flipflops for a few years now. They have been my second choice, when I couldn’t find the Zebras, or I didn’t feel like unpacking the luggage to get them out , or I had let my daughter borrow the hallowed pair. The Silvers have been coming along nicely. They have a few indentions in the right places and they stand up well to vigorous activity. I have high hopes for molding them into the perfect shoe. I know that it’s time to move on, but I can’t help but feel a sense of loss for my old friends, the Zebras. Time marches on.

Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? The Flip side and the Flop side of it all, is that I am completely invested in this weird relationship with flipflops. Therapists would say that I use them to exert my independence and declare that I am different from the other members of my childhood family. I say that I love the freedom of wiggling my toes and sliding them on and off in seconds. And the low price tag doesn’t hurt either. My old reliable Zebras held their own for a long time, and they did it with low-key, laid-back charm. Forgive me for being sentimental.

In a hilarious post-script, my hubby Rob announced yesterday, out of the blue, that he had been wanting to get a pair of flipflops, something he hadn’t had in all the years that I have known him. He took off to go to the store, and hours later, came home sporting a pair of Crocs. I said, “What? No flipflops?” He said, “No, I tried them on, but they were uncomfortable because they rubbed between my toes.” I said, “Yep, it does that to some people.”

BUT NOT ME!!!

LONG LIVE THE FLIPFLOP!!!