You know the super cute blush pink suede stiletto pumps that I got a week or so ago? I’ve been DYING (and nagged by the kids; “when are you going to wear them?”) to wear them out and about, but have never had an occasion that warrants wearing six inch high heels.
Last night, I had that occasion. I went out to dinner and movie with someone who shall remain nameless, and I dressed (kind of) to impress. I spent a few hours curling my hair and doing my make-up and I wore my Refuge jeans (my ABSOLUTE favorites!), my brown mesh zebra tank over a nude cami, and my new high heels.
The night didn’t start so well, and I kind of thought I should change my shoes when I had a hard time walking out to the car. The heels kept hitting cracks and made me wobble. The humid heat also was making my feet sweat and my feet were slipping around inside the shoes. Now, I’m someone who is able to RUN in high heels. I’ve never had a problem with them.
These shoes, though they are cute as all get-out, are a problem.
They’re not much higher than I usually wear when I wear heels, but the heel is so dang thin that I feel like I’m balancing on a toothpick. Throughout the night, I took my shoes off to give my poor feet a rest. While we ate (I had a wonderful steak), I had my shoes off and my feet on the dirty floor. Walking back out to the car, I took my shoes off when my heel hit a crack and almost sent me tumbling. And during the movie (“Captain America”, and yes, it was very good), I took my shoes off and curled up in my seat with a cold cherry slushie. When the lights came up, I gathered all my things and slipped my cold feet back into the shoes. I stood up, newly confident that after all the rest, my feet wouldn’t hurt to be in the shoes. I walked over to the stairs, holding my almost empty slushie and my bag. He who will remain nameless pointed at something on the ground (though he said later that he didn’t do such a thing), and when I looked, the thin, toothpick heel hit a soft spot in the stair. I tipped forward and skidded down the stairs. There were only a few, but I heard a couple of gasps from the people still sitting in the theater. My knee stung from the carpet burn, but my pride was gushing blood.
After asking if I was alright, and if I was embarrassed, I was helped up. He grabbed the slushie from the ground (it didn’t spill or anything), and held a hand out just in case I needed it. I nodded, laughed a little bit, slung my bag over my shoulder, held my head up high and pretended that I didn’t just completely make a fool of myself. I walked across that dark theater like a model on a catwalk. But in the safety of the empty lobby, I bent down and took the accursed shoes off. I held them by the heels and I walked across the warm pavement to the car. Tiny bits of gravel never felt so good on my bare feet.
And though they are the cutest things I’ve ever seen, I never did put those shoes back on.