There is still a part of you that would give up shoes forever if you could--abandon the heels and leather in favor of the ground firmly under your feet. 

You would relish thick soles that absorb the friction between you and the earth, the natural burlap coating that protects your feet from the elements.  They would be too big for shoes, too big for something as mundane as sifting through your emails or filing your taxes. 

Your toes would wriggle free from the ribbons and laces that bind them; instead, they would hug the ground with each step, grateful for their own space, no longer squished together under the pretense of civilized dress.

Better still, your hobbit feet would be built for roaming--through the mountains, past the plains, to distant forests.  They would certainly never be at home in the confines of steel and concrete, though always welcome in a cozy hobbit hole built for ease and relaxation. 

But there are customs to be observed, social rituals to follow, so you keep your shoes, taking comfort in the fact that if you must wear them, they are least second skins, singular works of art that tenderly cup your feet.  For now, you settle for your barefoot mornings and shoeless evenings, even as the temptation of fashioning your small feet into large rough hobbit pads calls to you midday when the path from classroom to office seems longer than it is.  Yes, you will love your shoes, but often think that hobbit feet would not be such a bad idea.