Getting high isn’t what it used to be and I may have to give it up. I’m talking about wearing high heels. What did you think I was referring to?
The realization came to me during an event last week. I haven’t had many occasions to wear high heels since leaving Real Estate three years ago. So I decided on my #ColeHaanAir patent leather, tortoise shell pumps. They are classic, with a touch of sexy and a sturdy heel. Just the right choice for what I would describe as ‘business elegant’ attire. In the past I could have done four hours of networking, with a few glasses of wine and end up with nothing more than sore feet. However, thirty minutes into this event and I was already in trouble. I tried to concentrate and stay engaged, but inside my feet and back were screaming SIT DOWN. By the end I could barely speak or walk; and it wasn’t from the wine but the sheer pain.
Which brings me to my current dilemma. Am I just out of practice or is it really time to quit getting high? Some may wonder what is the debate? Go for comfort and save your body. While others might think, get back on those stilts in the name of fashion. So I will confess the main reason I wear them and won’t give them up just yet. I feel sexier and more confident when I’m in a great pair of heels. Its vain and superficial and I wish it didn’t matter; but it does. Especially if you are short like I am. At five foot -one inch tall (and shrinking as I write this blog), a few extra inches can make a big difference. For example, without heels I hear things like how little I am accompanied by a pat on the head or the shoulder. That doesn’t go a long way in business or dating. Heels allow me to stand with confidence and make eye contact – almost.
I know I am not alone in this quandary. But I don’t seem to hear women talk about it much (which that in of itself, is hard to believe). Perhaps its just one of those female things we know we’ll have to endure like cramps or childbirth. So, for now I’ll push through the pain and get inventive when it comes to finding relief. Which is exactly what I did as last week’s event was ending. A torrential rainstorm was wreaking havoc outside and the water was sure to come up over my ankles. With some quick thinking and my inability to take another step in those pumps, I gathered them up in my arms. That exquisite moment I took off those shoes was as heavenly to me as the first time I slipped them on. And as I stood under cover waiting for valet there were no odd looks, just a few smiles and nods from other women. I’d like to think it was because they could relate to my discomfort or perhaps it was respect for my fervent protection of designer pumps. It didn’t matter because I was back on solid ground, at least until the next event.