A lesson for the ladies.
The night the Red Sox clinched the AL East title, I wore a sweater, leather skirt and socks to a bar directly outside of Fenway. The average inside temperature was 99 degrees with 100% humidity and judging from some of the guys’ tans, a very high UV index. Surprisingly, my outfit of choice was not my biggest fault of the night.
No, because aside from my apparent lapse in judgement of wearing leather to a notoriously sweaty bar, I also realized that I made the inexcusable mistake of rocking my shoes on the wrong feet.
This is a true story.
Having a few personal moments of self reflection and doubt, I was instantly brought back to a younger version of myself and to the time I learned the pain high heels could cause.
For my uncle’s wedding, I was taken to get my first big girl
pair of shoes, appropriately bought from a boutique called Metamorphosis. With
a 1 ½ inch heel, I was high, mighty and pudgily adorable. When I wasn’t
chugging Shirley Temples or chasing down the pigs in a blanket server, I took
those shoes (and a general disregard for public humiliation) to the dance floor.
I conga-ed, disco-ed and got a little bit lower now until my feet no longer wanted to support me. For a child of ten who has yet to learn what real pain is, realizing how a generally important body part can refuse to function is a frightening thing. I was immobile and thus quarantined to a corner table where the bartender had graciously dumped a bucket of ice for my feet to melt.
Ladies, listen up. It was at this point that I learned the cardinal rule of high heel wearing: NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOUR FEET HURT, NEVER TAKE THOSE DAMN SHOES OFF.
When you've danced on one too many tables or walked two blocks too far, it is imperative that if you plan on wearing those shoes for the rest of the night, do not cave.
This has nothing to do with the lack of sanitary regulations on city streets and drunk girls’ apparent disregard for them. This also has nothing to do with how much of an idiot you’ll look like as you hobble around, barefooted and defeated, with your heels in one hand.
This is because if you plan on trying to jam your aching lower extremities back into your size-too-small-but-seemingly-worth-it-at-the-time stilettos, you will realize you are half way up the proverbial creek, with a hole in your canoe and a bull shark lurking in the depths. Once your feet realize the freedom outside of the solitary confinement that is your shoe, they will swell and swell as a warning that there is no way in H-E double hockey sticks that are going back in there.
The take away: Your feet will hurt more once the shoes come off and go back on.
I conga-ed, disco-ed and got a little bit lower now until my feet no longer wanted to support me. For a child of ten who has yet to learn what real pain is, realizing how a generally important body part can refuse to function is a frightening thing. I was immobile and thus quarantined to a corner table where the bartender had graciously dumped a bucket of ice for my feet to melt.
Ladies, listen up. It was at this point that I learned the cardinal rule of high heel wearing: NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOUR FEET HURT, NEVER TAKE THOSE DAMN SHOES OFF.
When you've danced on one too many tables or walked two blocks too far, it is imperative that if you plan on wearing those shoes for the rest of the night, do not cave.
This has nothing to do with the lack of sanitary regulations on city streets and drunk girls’ apparent disregard for them. This also has nothing to do with how much of an idiot you’ll look like as you hobble around, barefooted and defeated, with your heels in one hand.
This is because if you plan on trying to jam your aching lower extremities back into your size-too-small-but-seemingly-worth-it-at-the-time stilettos, you will realize you are half way up the proverbial creek, with a hole in your canoe and a bull shark lurking in the depths. Once your feet realize the freedom outside of the solitary confinement that is your shoe, they will swell and swell as a warning that there is no way in H-E double hockey sticks that are going back in there.
The take away: Your feet will hurt more once the shoes come off and go back on.
I look back at my younger self and see the wedding as conditioning
for the future. Yes, I will still plaster my feet in bandaids when necessary,
or switch my shoes around so they are on the appropriate foot, but if my feet
are aching as I try to hail a cab or am herded out of a bar after last call, I
will walk as slowly as is physically possible just to avoid the excruciating
pain that is the Cinderella-cycle of re-applying the uncomfortable shoe in question.
Take my advice, ladies. Refrain and conquer.
Take my advice, ladies. Refrain and conquer.
Boots: BCBG
Skirt: Zara
Sweater: Forever21
Necklace: Mango
Watch: La Mer Collections
Eyeshadow Palette: Sephora in Primal Instincts
Lipgloss: Chanel in #146
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