PRETTY IN PINK

I sorta had this notion that becoming part of the Female Adult World I was expected to adorn high heels at my place of employment. It was kinda like a graduation present, "Here is your set of 4-inch heels, now join the masses of girls walking the streets of the metropolitan work place," I have come to the sad fact that I might never be able to join this secret club for my detest of high heel shoes.

I bought these lusciously pink shoes nearly 3 years ago, I half expected that I would be wearing them soo much that I would need a new pair of stilettos almost every 6 months. The first night I wore them ,which feels like nearly a century ago, I was trying to impress a boy. Well the guy hardly noticed me, let a lone my killer heels. I say killer because that is most certainly what they did to my poor feet. I have maybe since that dreadful evening donned these pink killers 3 times. Well in all my brightness I accepted the challenge of a new job, a new office job, one that requires me to dress like an adult, and maybe to once again test the waters of high-heels and stilettos. So as a practice run I wore them to church this last Sunday.

First I had to somehow learn to drive with these monsters, not an easy feet (pardon the pun). I dare any guy to try and drive a heavy duty pick-up truck in 4-inch stilettos around a parking lot, maybe you will gain some view into the great complexities of women driving. Walking in these shoes is no easy feet either. I am naturally a quick walking paced person, but in high heels, you can't take wide steps, unless you plan on swimming across the parking lot on your face. Then you have to bare the awful clip-clop, clip-clop noise that you make upon entrance. Walking up the stairs, walking to my seat, all heads turn to observe the lady who has the audacity to wear such awfully noisy shoes. Then you have to stand for at least the length of 5 old hymns, each with luck all have five verses and the chorus to sing through each verse. When church is finally over, you don't wait one second after closing prayer before you bolt out of your chair, walking at the fastest pace you can make in heels that force you to walk dreadful slow. No time to shake hands or even acknowledge anyone, because the sooner you get home, the sooner you can get the shoes off and start the healing process. You can't even think of stopping at the car wash on the way home, I won't even get started on the embarrassment of possibly getting your heel stuck in a grate. To all the girls who can wear high-heels, I send my regards and compliments, for I never will comfortably enjoy them.