I recently went out and bought myself a pair of 4” heels in anticipation of an upcoming trip to Las Vegas. Having been to Vegas on numerous occasions, I had to wonder what possessed me this time, to have the urge to buy shoes that will undoubtedly cause me serious injury, public humiliation or at the very least a trip to the podiatrist to explain why I have bunions the size of golf balls on my feet.
I’ve observed a phenomenon that happens with busy women of a certain age (no longer in your twenties, but not quite well into your forties). They’ve survived the first few years of raising their children, or building their careers, also known as the “I could care less what I look like right now, just let me get through this day” phase. They want to feel attractive again, but not in same way they were when they were young and naive. Had the discovery of the aforementioned gray hair pushed me into this phase of my life? Am I having an early mid-life crisis, and the shoes are merely a pre-cursor to some female equivalent to the sports car? I wasn’t completely sure what my reasons were, but I knew one thing for sure, I needed to find that pair of shoes.
So with more than a little trepidation, I marched down to my local shopping mall and headed for the trendy shoe establishment that was certain to contain the breakout shoes I was looking for. I found a pair that didn’t scream “I’m a hooker!”, took a deep breath and tried them on. Before I stood up, I voiced my hesitations as to whether I would be able to pull the shoes off to the uber-helpful, young effeminate male sales clerk. He assured me that I could, as though he was saying this to Carrie Bradshaw, instead of the frumpy non-hottie who had walked through the door. Bless his little heart. So, I stood up tentatively. The salesclerk almost squealed with delight. He said, “Oh you can so pull those off!” At first I thought he was just gunning for a sale, but then he explained that most of the customers (luckily he didn’t specify “younger”) who try on shoes like these can barely stand up, let alone walk in them, which I was clearly doing. I glanced cautiously in the mirror at myself and was surprised at what I saw. The shoes made my legs look twice as long as they usually do and I realized I was standing a little straighter. And they really weren’t as uncomfortable as they appeared at first glance. Hmm..maybe the salesclerk was onto something. Maybe age, life experience and a lot of early morning jogging had prepared me for this moment. So, after issuing an ominous warning to the sales clerk about how if I ended up in a cast because of a shoe-related injury, I was going to hobble back and beat him with my crutches, I bought the shoes.
I leave for Vegas on Friday, and I can’t wait to wear my new shoes for a night out on the town, even if they represent the early warning indicators of some bigger crisis that may result in my family and friends nominating me for “What Not to Wear.” There will be a part two to this story, and my hope is that it involves more fun than first aid. Photos to follow.
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