Time changes things

This morning when I arrived at work, the elevator doors slid open quietly, and from the car emerged a very pretty young girl wearing these *really* adorable gray Louboutin or Blahnik or some such with a very tall heel.

She lurched forward, took a step on the marble floor, her ankle gave way, she stumbled, got her balance back, and then galumphed with a clack clack sound the rest of the way out and into the foyer.

And I thought to myself: Rookie!

Terrible, I know. But really, if you are going to wear the heels, you oughta know how to walk in them.

In my mother’s day, they wore three to four inch stilettos every single day! And those women could walk a mile in those things. Hell, many women of that era got to the point they couldn’t even put their heels flat on the floor anymore, so used to wearing high heels were their legs and tendons.

Even that bastion of shoe goddessness, Carrie Bradshaw, knew how to walk in her way in overpriced but delicious shoes. C’mon girls! If ya gonna wear ’em, wear ’em well!

Then I realized that all these thoughts are all kind of ironic, because over the weekend, I was out shopping. I stopped at the shoe department for a look-see. I was drawn to the rack of comfy, padded, mostly flat shoes.

And I thought to myself: At what point did I migrate over to comfortable shoes only? Did I consent to this?

In defiance of myself, I tried on a really cute pair of heels. I walked around in them (no rookie, me), then was like “eh. Why?” Ripped them off, put my comfy shoes back on, and kept shopping. For something with a waistband that’s not too binding.

edit: Good lord…I’ve had these thoughts before. Same outcome. Really, this whole shoe issue is plaguing me on a deep level. I need help. Retail therapy at least!

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