Walking in Heels

I can’t help but say heels are an enormous contradiction.

Last night a few of my coworkers and I got together to celebrate New Years Eve since we wouldn’t be able to do so tonight.  We made reservations at a classy nearby restaurant, table for 35 please!  It was a brilliant excuse to get dressed up in something other than that bowtie.

For the girls? An excuse to buy new heels.

I’m guilty.  I bought a fabulous pair of 4 inch tiger striped heels. They are sexy, and I revolved the rest of my outfit around them.

By the time we sat down for dinner I had blisters the size of a nickel.

All of the girls crammed into tiny, over-packed cars to avoid the two block walk to the after party and our beloved heels were off and safely in a corner for the rest of the evening.

So why do we get so excited to wear these shoes? I mean, we get really, really excited.

It’s a struggle to walk and the possibility of toppling over is great (especially after a couple cocktails), we get blisters that ruin our feet for weeks, and we eventually cast them off and avoid making eye contact.

And then the next opportunity we have to wear them we get all fired up again.  Hurray! A new pair of heels! What?

I am a part of this quirky scheme, but that doesn’t mean I’m not baffled by it. 

I get that it makes our legs look killer and lengthens us up a bit, so I can understand that as fans of fashion we’d be willing to endure some pain, but that doesn’t explain our excitement for the discomfort we know comes as part of the package.

Bizarre.

I’m pretty positive I’ll wear them tonight.

See ya, 2012!

Cheers!

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