“I don’t know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot.” Marilyn Monroe
I walk a lot, and I mean a lot. Everyday I notch up at least 4 kms, and most days it is at least 6kms, yet if you took a look in my wardrobe you would not find it filled with sensible, podiatrist recommended footwear. No you will find rows upon rows of high heels in all their wonderful varieties. Platforms, kitten heels, mules, stilettoes, slingbacks. Yes they are all there and most look just as pristine and clean as the day they were produced in the factory. You see I love high heels, I love that they make my short stumpy legs just that little less short and stumpy. I love how they literally give you an instant high, how the world suddenly looks different now that you have another six inches on it. I love that a stiletto has the power to make you believe your life revolves around going to glamorous parties where you sit sipping cocktails while all these gorgeous men fight over who gets to dance with you. I love that heels give instant va va voomness, that suddenly a casual jean metamorphoses into a sexy leg, that like the dowdy dull moth you have been transformed into the beautiful butterfly. Alas unlike the song lyrics none of these shoes were made for walking. They were made for tottering, for gliding about the dance floor, for sashaying from the taxi to the table. They were not made for hoofing it to the school, or the library or the train station. Wear heels for any length of time and even if you go nowhere you experience a dull ache in your lower back and you can almost see your first metatarsophalangeal joint (big toe to you and me) getting enlarged and thereby producing a hallux valgus , aka, bunions. High heels have even been known to cause broken or sprained ankles, the chance of falling in them are way higher, even for seasoned professionals. Think of Naomi Campbell and countless other models who have fallen from grace thanks to the high heel, even poor Carrie succumbed to their curse when she finally got that long awaited call to strut her stuff. And this was Carrie, a woman who was never seen in anything lower than 6 inches. And yet despite this, despite the pain, despite the greater chances of falling flat on my face, despite the inevitable bunions, corns and god knows what else, I will keep buying high heels. I will still, whenever I get the opportunity, as in there is little or no walking involved, slip into a pair of heels and for a while anyway, I will feel on top of the world, I will feel sexy, I will feel glamorous, I will feel I have Betty Grable legs. In fact about the only thing I won’t feel is my feet!