"High heels are pleasure with pain"
---Christian Louboutin
I don’t go out much. But when I do, I am well past the age
of feeling like I need to be uncomfortable for the sake of fashion. But there I
was, at a friend’s birthday party this weekend, nearly doubled-over in pain,
wincing, hobbling through the venue like a ninety-year old woman. Well, not
really. That’s just how I felt in my shoes. Shoes that will never be worn
again! Not by me.
It wasn’t that they were too small, I don’t play that! It
was something about the width or the shape or the style of the top of the shoe .
. . I’m not sure, but it was a mess!
All I could think about was, “How AM I HERE”!?! I know better. I buy my size, I buy quality, I walk in heels
on the regular! I am the teacher who silently pities the girls who show up to
prom in heels they’re wearing for the first time, walking tenuously like balancing
on stilts. Poor things, I bet now I’ll empathize more . . .
But that ain’t me! I love a good heel. Heels always help to
elongate my 5’4’’ stature. They make me taller, thinner. They put that dip in
your hip, that switch in your sway, that sass in your . . .
The higher the heel, the closer to GAWD! Needless to say, I like a good heel! This night was no different, I got dressed and was feeling pretty good about my self. I even took a bathroom selfie! BAM! I put on the heels and awakened The Diva! I was ready for the night!
The higher the heel, the closer to GAWD! Needless to say, I like a good heel! This night was no different, I got dressed and was feeling pretty good about my self. I even took a bathroom selfie! BAM! I put on the heels and awakened The Diva! I was ready for the night!
“How AM I HERE”, I shouted as my feet screamed!!!
I guess
it happens when you don’t go out much and you take your fashion cues from
blogs. It happens when you buy online. It happens when you’re the kind of
person who receives shoes in the mail, tries them on only one foot (the left), feels
satisfied and then throws them in the closet . . . for months.
It was my right shoe that betrayed me, that made me sit it out when they played “The Wobble”. It was the right shoe that made me silently beg for mercy as I stood during the tributes and acknowledgements. It was the right shoe that made me move past the appetizers, hungry though I was, because I couldn't manage eating, walking, talking, smiling and hiding my pain all at one time.
Too many sensations. It was the right shoe that did me wrong and made me end my night.
Sexy swagger. Spent.
Had it not been snowing, I would have walked to my car
barefoot!
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| Cause of Death |
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