Among friends and acquaintances, I am known as the girl who rocks Vans with every outfit, no matter the occasion. I could be wearing leggings and a nice top, headed out to Fed Hill with friends on a Saturday night and I'd be sporting my Sk8-Hi's. If I'm going to Walmart, a pair of beat up slip-ons will be my go-to, without socks. Even while on-site at an internship last fall, I had a nicer pair that I wore with khakis and sweaters.

I felt comfortable in my Vans, cool even. While in middle school, others pointed their noses up at me when I first started wearing them, yet I was hooked. During the winter, they took place of boots and in the summer, I would not be caught dead in flip flops. Yet this summer, a change came.

This change was not intentional; it was not based on necessity or desire, but pure laziness. I was tired of lacing up my Vans, I was tired of stinky feet... as with or without socks, summertime heat and tennis shoes do not mix. So, I took the leap and dug out a pair of Reef's I had bought with my Mom in New Jersey one summer.

This was the first summer I had rocked sandals without a bit of worry. In the past, I hadn't because I had been upset about what my feet looked like. I didn't like how calloused they were at the bottoms and cringed every time I got a pedicure. I thought my toes looked weird and usually felt uncomfortable wearing them but for some reason, change was upon me.

I wore the Reef's to work for a few weeks, without any problems, some anxiety, yes, but overall, I was confident in my skin for once. I then dug up a pair of my Mom's Teva's and started wearing those. Almost like clockwork, those around me noticed the change. They were not negative about it but complimented my new style. Providing input on the change I had enlisted. Little did they know, this new comfort level was done just for that. Little did I know, I had gained my own confidence in a part of my body I had once lacked positivity.

A curveball appeared in form of me dropping my Mac on my foot, specifically on my big toe. The pain was excruciating but that is a story for another time; the true problem was the color of my toe nail... as I watched it turn the color of periwinkle, lilac, deep purple and then black all in the matter of days. My confidence was demolished, yet I slipped on those Teva's the next morning for work, now unafraid of the perceived ugliness on my foot. I did not run for a pedicure to cover the monstrosity and oftentimes, forgot about its presence until someone mentioned it. The only thing that would make me upset about those conversations was the possibility of losing said nail, yet I continue to scope out a new pair of Teva's. Nail polish can cover the discoloration, but the confidence I built in myself over the past couple of weeks is enough to keep me going.