#106 Hell In High Heels
Anyone out there who lives in high heels - raise your hands...
You poor dears.
I'm right there with you.
Once upon a time I was 5 foot 2 and ¾.
I think these days I'm closer to 5 foot 2.
Sigh.
Maybe even 5’ ½”…
Which is to say I'm short.
And when you are short you have three options:
Live with your shortness and run around in comfy flat shoes. (Be prepared for cute little nicknames like "half-pint" and "small-fry".)
Wear platform shoes with thick soles and thicker heels. (These went out of fashion with the 70's but they do have an occasional style resurgence so you might get away with it.)
Wear High Heels
I've been strutting around in stilettos and kicky pumps as my default "I'm really a tall person" footwear for most of my adult life, the main big change over time having been the height of the heel.
Back in my spit-and-vinegar days, I wore 3 ½ to 4 inch spikes like the ones illustrated above.
Taking into account some very vigorous protests from my knees and ankles, the tall torture stilettos have since been relegated to the dustbin in favor of more sensible elevations of 1 ½” to 2 ½”.
Accepting lower heels has mostly worked out.
Except when it hasn’t.
There’s the small matter of my bad habit of underestimating my fancy shoe endurance.
Sometimes it's not my fault. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you are attending a formal function on one site and are then asked to trek across town to another? It's not as though you can whip a pair of Nike's out of your snappy little evening bag and slap them onto your feet.
On one such occasion I was attending an awards ceremony in Washington D.C. that was to be followed by a reception elsewhere. As the ceremony concluded we were told that the next venue was "just a short walk" and that we would all just "migrate over together".
One and a half miles of torture later (through pouring rain, I might add) we arrived at our destination to find a stand-up reception.
Yep! That's right! I, and several other disgruntled, high heeled, honorees, found ourselves not only trekking across the Washington Mall - complete with mud and gravel - but had no place to sit for the ensuing 2 hours.
At least the wine was available immediately.
Or the time I was in NYC with my husband for his launch with King Features. This was officially a BIG DEAL which meant a lot of formal meetings and lunches and traipsing around the city while dressed up.
By the end of the day I had a blister the size of a quarter on my right heel and was walking back to the hotel half in and half out of a blood soaked pump.
Step, hobble, step, hobble, step hobble.....
As we got into the elevator I had just said to my husband "Maybe I can get a band-aid from housekeeping" when a lady popped in before the doors closed.
She looked at me and asked if I had a band-aid. And I thought to myself, "Small world, she needs a band-aid too!"
I replied that I was thinking of trying to get one from housekeeping when she answered, "Oh no, you just come along to my room - I've got plenty."
Confused I stared at her, still not grasping her point.
"Honey, I've been walking behind you for the last six blocks - believe me, I know that walk..."
I almost fell into her arms with relief.
These days I admit I live in heels a little less often. My bare feet are pretty comfy around the house and at this point my husband is well aware of my vertically challenged status. Wearing heels at home, the only person being fooled is me.
But I do still have to attend fancy functions out there in the big wide world.
And have taken to preparing for any eventuality.
So the next time you see me at a formal event, don't be surprised that I have a two gallon purse filled with Nike's and Band-Aids.
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I appreciate the feedback and knowing how often I have struck a chord with your lives.
My wife, Karen, is about your height but hates heels. She'd be barefoot all day if she could. What's nice about our relationship is that, although I'm a regular-sized man (maybe a skosh over 5-foot-10), she always marvels at how high I can reach and how I can see over a crowd that to her looks like a mass of shoulder blades. I suspect she's puffing up my ego a bit so I'll continue being useful to her, but it works. As long as I don't stand where I block her sunlight.