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Cinderella Shoes (by Sara Tribble)

I first “met” Sara when she contacted Billy Coffey requesting an interview. I was so completely blown away by her questions and her obvious understanding of the publishing business that I immediately went over the check out her blog, “I Am Write”. Color me impressed! Check out her bio:

BIO: Sara Tribble is finally twenty-one, still married, and rocking her Cinderella shoes whenever she can. She writes flash/short fiction with a handful of publications online, works on numerous novels, and is the Publishing Editor of Flash Me Magazine. If she’s not writing, she’s playing video games, eating, or blogging, seriously.

And here’s her story, Cinderella Shoes:

When my boyfriend asked me to marry him, people thought we were crazy. Both coming out of high school, he was already in the military, two young hearts flooded with love were just some of the reasons. My parents never minded and supported both of us, even when we announced our desire for a shotgun wedding at the local court house. I wasn’t pregnant or anything, which was another speculation, but we had to be married to live together.

Regardless of the size ceremony, my father wanted to take me out for shoes since I already bought a beautiful dress to wear, nothing fancy just simple and elegant. My dad had to go to the city for some work supplies, so he took the chance to take me along for shoes at the local mall.

We entered the store and shoes were everywhere. All colors, all styles, and tons to match my dress. I chose a pair I really liked, silver with rhinestones. They were under fifty dollars so I showed my dad. The price made him twitch because he was recently laid off from work due to the economy.

“Let’s keep looking, but hold onto these,” he said.

I returned for the search to find my shoes. Noting his financial situation, I looked in the clearance area and found a sleek heel, perfect ivory matching my dress for under ten bucks. I put the expensive shoes back and held onto the different box. He offered to get me the expensive ones, but I refused telling him I liked this pair much more, which I did, so he put down the fancy Cinderella shoes (as he called them) at the nearest table display.

On the way out of the store he said something to me that I remember to this day.

“I’m so glad I was able to buy you a pair of shoes for your wedding. The ones you have are really nice. Thanks for looking at the cheaper ones. I wanted to be able to buy you something for your wedding, but with work, things have been tough.”

I think it was hard to admit it at the time because our family has usually been secured with work and income, but sometimes life doesn’t always give you that luxury. The day of my wedding I slid on my dress and shoes, walked into that courthouse with my parents and husband’s parents to be married.

When it was over, my dad whispered to me, “You look beautiful sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. I wish I had more to give you for this special day.”

“You did,” I said. “Your guidance and love through the years. Not to mention, I got my Prince Charming now with my Cinderella shoes.”

“Those aren’t the Cinderella shoes,” he replied and looked down to the ground shamefully.

“They are to me.” I smiled and hugged him again.

To read more from Sara Tribble visit her at I Am Write and follow him on the twitter at @saratribble.

Aging Gracefully, Plumbers Crack & Encouragement for Writers

Well, it’s Saturday, and on this particular Saturday, this means five things:

1) This is a repost
2) I am linking a really good interview from earlier in the week.
3) There you go…
4) I like even numbered points.
5) But five is good, too.

So, I recently lost some weight. Not a lot, but enough weight that I can no longer wear any of my pants without them falling down. For a while I could simply belt them to keep them up. But now when I try to wear a belt all the fabric gets bunched up and I kinda look like some backwoods hillbilly holding up their jeans with a rope. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I’m just saying. No offense, West Virginia.)
I bought some smaller jeans at Sam’s Club the other day. Which, BTW is where all the trendsetters buy their clothes while shopping for toilet paper and paper towels in bulk. I got these jeans pretty cheap (the best kind) and they were Levis bootcut, so I knew there was a possibility they might fit me — a rare quality in a pair of jeans. The problem with buying clothing at Sam’s is, there are no dressing rooms, so you can’t try anything on. (Actually, you can, but I’ve found that they tend to frown upon this practice.)

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I remember now. I get home, put away all my bulk items and tried on my new jeans. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they actually fit very well. The only problem is that they are the low rise variety. Which is fine. But these are the really low rise variety. I modeled them for my hubby and he thought they looked good. My daughter saw them and asked that I wear them to school when I came to read to her class. She likes to pick out my clothes so that I can look “fancy”.

Now, I’m at a point in my life where I think twice about what I’m wearing. As much as I try not to, I do care what other people’s impressions are of my outward appearance. Did I look like a middle-aged housewife trying to look hip? I’ve been told by friends that they don’t think of me as being 43, but I’ve always chalked that up to the fact that I’m extremely immature, not from any youthful appearance. I don’t want to become a parody like Sally O’Malley going around screaming, “I’m 50!” It bugs me that so many women (and men nowadays) are so afraid to age gracefully. I say this somewhat hypocritically because I color my hair every month to cover up the grey. So I ask you — how old is too old to wear low rise jeans?

I decided to go ahead and wear my new, hip jeans. They were a bit on the long side so I wore some high heeled boots. (Not real boots, but those slip on ones that look like boots. I have huge calves that make wearing most boots impossible — but that’s another story.) I gotta admit that I was feeling pretty sassy when I went up to my daughter’s class. My daughter gave me a big hug and told me I looked “fancy”. That’s pretty high praise from her. As I do each Friday, I read to her class then went to the cafeteria to have lunch with her. The lunch tables are basically large, picnic tables — no chairs only benches. When I sat down, I was not feeling sassy. I was feeling a draft. I was feeling grateful that grapes were not on the menu because kids from neighboring tables could have enjoyed a rousing game of butt-crack basketball. Awkward…

So, enough about me, how was your Friday?

Update: Speaking of weight loss (or not), have you tried the new deep fried macaroni and cheese bites from Jack in the Box? They’re delightful!

And now a partial repost from Wednesday’s post:

If you’re not a regular visitor here (I forgive you) or if you don’t have a firm grasp of the obvious, one of the goals of this blog is to help promote and encourage other writers. That wasn’t my original intent when I started blogging, but after some reflection and much prayer, I truly believe that this is the path God is leading me down. As if to confirm this conviction, about a week after I made that decision I came across a little blog called What I Learned Today. In just a few short months, a whole bunch of really cool things have happened with Billy’s writing career, and it’s been a pleasure to witness some minor and major victories along the way.

As if to confirm this conviction, about a week after I made that decision I came across a little blog called What I Learned Today. In just a few short months, a whole bunch of really cool things have happened with Billy’s writing career, and it’s been a pleasure to witness some minor and major victories along the way.

For those of you who think you are skilled and masochistic enough to pursue writing as a full time career, I’d like to invite you over to Sara Tribble’s blog, I Am Write to read a really fantastic interview with Billy Coffey. It’s good, y’all…