Brazil has a wide variety of beautiful women's shoes ranging from stylish yet comfortable, to glamorous and painfully unrelenting. It's rough sharing a shoe size (41 or a U.S. size 10) with Brazilian Big Foot, and not being able to fit into any of them, like me.

Living in Brazil, I have seen some shoes that I'd never wear, even if I could squeeze into them and keep from toppling over. Instead of envisioning myself as a run-way model in spikes, I envision a life of foot agony and pedestal problems.

Already, being tall enough to play for the Women's National Basketball Association (WNBA), in a pair of stiletto heels, I'd have to duck through doorways, and be careful not to hit my head on ceiling lamps.

Spiked heels remind me of my grandmother, the poster fossil for bunions and heel spurs. Pumps in Grandma's twenties led to corn pads and orthopedic slippers in her sixties. Maybe that's why I mostly see younger women strutting about in the malls.

The older women are home soaking their sore feet or at the podiatrist's office moaning, "Ooooh, Ooooow, my aching mallet toes!" So the thought of wearing super heels makes me want to put my pads in a hydraulic massager.

It's strange that so many women will put themselves in such painful shoes to look attractive. I want to lambaste them, scolding, "Okay, you're beautiful! Now, get off that rickety side walk, and change into sensible shoes before I call 911."

Besides the sky-scraping spikes, and super trendy, funky shoe styles, there are still plenty of other gorgeous shoes to pick from in Brazil. When I first went shoe shopping at Dom Pedro mall in Campinas, I thought I'd been in a car accident and gone to shoe Shangri-la.

The utopian variety of shoe styles, many with matching handbags, and outfits, left me breathless and drooling. If I were Imelda Marcos, and were looking for glamorous, bargain shoes, I would buy my 1,060 pairs of shoes in Brazil. So, it was disheartening to only be able to fit my big American toe into the largest size, a 39.

"Why don't you have a craftsman in São Paulo make you shoes?" my husband suggested.

"At a shoe or boat factory?" I replied.

"Or, you could ask a transvestite where he buys his pumps for Carnaval," he continued.

My husband was full of helpful shopping ideas, which made me feel lucky, compared to most husbands who try to discourage their wives from shopping. I guess he was tired of seeing me wear the same men's basketball sneakers everyday.

My shoe size troubles made me feel more alone than Tom Hanks in Castaway, until my Portuguese teacher, Fabianna, told me about her four sisters whose shoe sizes vary from 31 to 40.

When Fabianna and I went shoe shopping with two of her size-challenged sisters, Anna Paula, a size 31, resorted to buying a pair of lavender, Hello Kitty light up, sneakers for rug rat girls.

Anna Carolina, a size 40, bought durable, men's trail sandals with excellent traction and stability. I bought another pair of men's basketball shoes - peach Converse All-Stars to go with my evening wear.

Since I started shoe shopping in Brazil, I've had a recurring dream that I'm in a shoe salon trying on a sleek, opened toed, leather turquoise, 2 1/2" heel sandal with a fresh, pink, leather flower attached to the top.

As luck would have it, and being a dream, the size 39 actually fits me! I slip on the sandals with a matching dress that I've bought in the states (I can't find a dress in Brazil that fits either, but, that's another article) for a romantic evening out with my husband, Bob.

After ten minutes of dancing with Bob at the nightclub, the sandal straps across the tops of my feet cut my skin, causing severe hemorrhaging and dents. The pink leather flowers wilt and wither to gray.

My foot triples in size and the sandals explode off of my feet with bits flying everywhere, including in people's drinks. I wake up in a terrible sweat, and make sure that I can still fit into my basketball shoes.

My ultimate Brazilian dream or fantasy would be to be able to fit into a stylish Brazilian flat or medium heel, shoe, or sandal. I've even considered surgery to remove the top halves of my toes. This would also mean, I'd never need to endure another grueling pedicure. Or, I could simply put toe nail polish on my knuckles.

But, chopped off toes might provoke comments or stares, like, when I wore open toed shoes or went barefoot on the Rio beaches. I'm too ancient for traditional Chinese foot binding, and even if I weren't, how would I comfortably walk the mall to shoe shop in tight Lotus slippers?

I've also contemplated going back to the U.S. to buy shoes, but US$ 1,600 would be a little pricey for a pair of women's dress sandals or shoes at Nordstrom's (US$ 98 for the shoes and US$ 1,502 for the airfare, shuttle, and hotel).

I think I'll just buy another pair of basketball shoes, and glue sequins on them for formal wear. Even if I don't start new fashion trend, at least I'll be comfortable.

This article was written in a humorous vein and should not be taken seriously.

D.E. Finley is a writer and graphic artist. You can visit her website at http://defDesigns.com.

© D. E. Finley 2005

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