Are You High?

For my Goddaughter’s wedding, I was debating on what shoes to wear with my dress. My attire wasn’t super formal so I felt it was important I dress it up with some fancy shoes.

Fancy is not how I normally describe my footwear. 

“Orthopedic” is what I aim for, with a side of “sturdy.”

But for goodness’ sake, this was a special event so it was time to replace “supportive” with “slinky.”

I wasn’t even sure if I owned “slinky,” but there they were, in the back corner of my closet. 

The shoes were open-toed, with a series of criss-cross straps that covered the entire top of my foot.

These straps screamed, “slinky,” with a side of  “incarceration.”

They also had a stiletto heel that was at least five inches tall.

(Please don’t tell my podiatrist.)

I kicked off my ortho comfort sneakers with extra arch support and got to work.

Unfortunately, I discovered that the foot muscles responsible for contorting my foot into such an extreme vertical position had died of atrophy. 

I would need to use brute force.

I pushed, I pulled, I shoved, I squeezed.

My piggies hollered, What are you doing to us?

After several minutes, I managed to stuff my battered feet into these barbaric contraptions.

Wiping away tears, I smiled.

But then I remembered, I needed to actually walk in these death traps.

Cautiously, I rose to a standing position, swaying from side to side like a Jenga tower about to topple.

I teetered across the bathroom tile, taking teeny, tiny steps.

With each step, there was an 80/20 chance I was going down.

However, like a real-life Weeble, I wobbled, but I didn’t fall down.

On more than one occasion, I lunged at the towel rack to keep myself from face-planting.

Good God, I thought to myself, how do strippers do it?

But let’s be honest, stripping is a young person’s game.

(Ageism, am I right?)

After about 20 minutes,  I managed to make it across the bathroom. 

It took another 20 minutes, using some pretty impressive geriatric gymnastics, to remove the shoes.

I ultimately decided that as stunning as I looked in my slinky shoes, it wasn’t worth the agony.

Instead, I went with a low-heeled sensible shoe. 

 Seriously, why put myself through unnecessary suffering?

I’m not an idiot.

Although the Spanx I wore, which cut off my circulation and crushed most of my organs, may have said otherwise.