I was 16 years old, 5 feet 10 inches tall, as skinny as Olive Oil (the cartoon character in love with Popeye), and wore size 12 narrow shoes. I had a date with a wonderful boy a few years older than me, and short. We went bowling. Although I didn’t bowl well, I enjoyed the game.
We rented shoes. He ordered size nine for himself. He ordered size 12 for me. Of course, the bowling alley didn’t carry a size for women larger than 10. After some confusion on the part of the clerk, my date finally was able to order a man’s size 11 for me. We bowled. I bowled badly, and every time I threw a “gutter ball”, he would laugh and joke that my shoes were too big.
Funny. We did not have a second date.