Precious tootsies

I am positive that the more active Europeans cannot possibly have uncomfortable or sore feet. My lord I would walk a mile in a comfortable pair of shoes, yet only take as few steps as possible with either side feet or uncomfortable shoes. 

My shoes are not the problem- well maybe one day they were but certainly not today. I am in the boat of people who put pretty feet in front of comfortable feet. I love a little heel, low wedge and higher heel. However after at least 12 years of squeezing my toes and feet into shapes they were never naturally supposed to they give up on me occasionally! Today if I could have worn my trusty Ug boots I would have, however I do not believe anything with Ug in the title should be for outside wear!

Today while my feet screamed at me- leaving me fairly crippled I put my best spots forward in my Modcloth dress. I am excited to see this brand “Closet” on ASOS. As much as I loved Modcloth I cannot compare with the US dollar and high postage. Cheap and savvy shopping does not include high postage costs!

While I may not be entirely comfortable today I am standing here loud and proud of who I am! I haven’t conquered miles in these shoes but I did keep them on for the length of a testing but successful day. I learnt that sometimes the plan (as small as going out for your lunch breaK) can sometimes look very different in reality. But sometimes a little hick up can bring you to a little treasure. I found a lovely knick knack shop which when I need a new treasure to display I will be back there in an instance! 

       

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4 thoughts on “Precious tootsies

  1. Being 5″1, I LOVE my high heels. Being a full-figured, voluptuous woman, my body is, errrr, tough on shoes. Being half-blind without my contacts (and one-quarter blind WITH the contacts) I trip, slip, stumble, and lose my balance (even though I have nearly 3 years sober and, NO, I have not been drinking). New York City is the kind of place where you want to look your best (and for me, that means looking my tallest & slimmest, sooo, HEELS) but it’s also a place where you have to hoof it sometimes (as in walk TO the subway, walk FROM the subway, walk UP and/or DOWN the subway steps) and such walking is not conducive to high heels (it’s also not conducive to fat women, those who are one-quarter or half-blind depending on the day and/or hour, but that’s another post for another day). So I find myself wearing flats to do all the walking AND THEN CHANGING INTO THE HIGH HEELS when I arrive at my destination (which, for the love of all that is good and holy) is someplace where I can be permanently seated. This is great, BUT FOR the fact that having to carry my heels around means I require a big purse (and to their credit, the designers make some fabulous big purses) and so I’ve repurposed all my big purses from my drinking days (instead of hiding bottles of liquor in them as I once did, now I tote pairs of fabulous shoes in them) but the shoes make my bag insanely heavy, which causes my one shoulder to droop, which leaves me sort of tilted, or stooped.

    Wait, what were we talking about…ohhhh, right, the fact that the high heels make us look so good, and feel so great about how we look, that we are willing to cause ourselves excruciating foot pain by shoving our feet in them. We crush our toes, we hobble our ankles, we perch precariously on stilt-like heels. And we bitch about having to walk in them when the truth is we don’t even DO half as much walking as our European counterparts.

    In May & June of 1997, I spent time in florence, Italy, which (as some of you know) is a fashion capital of the universe (well, MY universe, anyway). While there, I saw a female police officer on a Vespa scooter. She was in uniform (form-fitting slacks & blouse, her hair in a French twist, the policewoman’s hat on her head. She sat astride her scooter (which bore the insignia of the Florence police department on its side) and I realized she was wearing stiletto heels. She also had a crossbody bag (purse, handbag) slung across her torso on a diagonal. Handcuffs dangled from a belt on her trousers. I’ve no idea what rank this woman held with the police department of Florence, but it was very clear to me that she was not sacrificing her femininity for the job. I was 19 at the time. I’m 38 years old now, and I still remember that woman officer when I see a female NYPD officer (the female NYPD officers I see are always wearing flat shoes, loose fitting slacks, menswear-looking shirts, they either have their hair cut short like men or they wear it pulled back very severely, they wear no makeup or accessories of any kind) and I think the difference between the European women and the American-born women is that the European women are more comfortable and confident in their femininity, and therefore less willing to sacrifice it for their careers. Mind you, they have their careers, but on THEIR OWN terms. We in America could learn from them.

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