This article originally appeared on VICE GermanyI possess a deep propensity for shame. I'll leave the house with a little pimple on my forehead – just a moderately-sized whitehead, not even a big angry puss-y number – and immediately feel it throbbing. I'll imagine people staring at it, taking photos and uploading them to a rapidly growing Facebook group called "Michi Buchinger Acne Updates". It's highly possible that my shame is in some way connected to my inflated sense of self.
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For whatever reason I have a need for strangers to think good things of me. It's a weakness, and I need to move beyond it. But what's the best way to do that? What can I do to signify I have both given up wholeheartedly on myself and care not what other people think of me?One simple answer: toe shoes. The most embarrassing footwear ever designed.Nobody knows exactly why toe shoes happened. My theory is some designer wanted to take "the next step in dynamic footwear", but instead of taking that next step just took a completely wrong turn. They're shoes shaped like feet – with toes and everything – and they make the person wearing them look like he or she accidentally put gloves on their feet.The actual point of wearing toe shoes is probably that they're comfortable. Reviews on Amazon usually touch on that, like one from a "M. Schultz", who calls his toe shoes "heaven on earth :-)" and "totally stress free". Which makes me worry for M Schultz's, because there has to be something severely wrong with his life if wearing normal shoes is stressful.Anyway, I figure walking around in these shoes for a bit might help me deal with my sense of shame, and help me build some confidence. So I buy a pair in the hope they'll change me forever.
Day 1
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And I wish I could say it was all in my head, that really no one cares – but on my walk someone does ask me why I'm not wearing normal shoes. I have no answers. I make the outing as short as possible.
Day 2
Day 3
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My friend Barbara quickly notices I'm not enjoying myself and asks me what's up. I immediately tell her everything – about the toe shoes, my nerves and that if she smells something weird it might not be the camembert. She starts laughing in a way that suggests she wants my kind of problems; that the world would be a happy place if everyone just had problems like mine. "Of course people will stare at your feet and laugh at you," she says. "You're standing there sulking the whole time. It's not the shoes, it's the fact that you look as rattled as Kate Winslet by the end of Titanic."She might have a point – I've been looking like a sad emoji on legs for the past few days."Why don't you just walk around town in your toe shoes," Barbara suggests, "and try to believe that your shoes are perfectly normal and everything is absolutely fine and everyone else is crazy for not having picked up the trend yet?"It's solid advice. People who seem to exude confidence never look anything like sad emojis on legs – they look like they know what they're doing, which makes it easy to believe that they know what they're doing. And you believing they know what they're doing will give them even more confidence. I've always said that faking it is the key to success – it's what got me through most of my school exams. And it could get me through a day in toe shoes.