I Miss My Stilletos

Happy Valentine's Day you lovely thing.   My boomer feet will no longer tolerate walking on tippy toe for hours, or even minutes now.  These are officially "sit down" shoes and we all know what that means.  A walk from the car to the event may be too far.  I may need to get dropped at the door. 

From the time I started working professionally, (I don't think scooping ice cream cones required dress attire) I wore heels.  About 3/4 of my jobs were sit down jobs and the remaining 1/4 was retail management.  During that period my corns developed corns but one must suffer to be beautiful.  I think a friend's mother shared those words of wisdom.  Suffer I have for my heels.  They're just to darn cute. 

At one point I had work shoes and Vegas shoes with glitter and towering heels. We were going  2-3 times a year back in the early 90s when 1/2 the people were still dressing in suits and cocktail dresses for the shows.

Once I kicked off my shoes under a table at Caesar's Palace and my feet were so swollen, I couldn't get them back on.  Was it worth it?  Oh, you bet.  I learned to keep those babies on so I could toddle out feeling no less pain than the bound feet of the geisha's.

Winter didn't mean snow boots.  Heck no.  Winter meant these boots. The idea was to stab the snow and ice to keep from falling and, no, I never did.

I have no need for all that glam anymore and I am sure I would not last 5 minutes in them.  I am resigned to the dreaded sensible shoe.  The flat cushioned sole.  The comfort shoe.  Oprah doesn't care what I'm wearing when we share my living room at 4:00.  She has on her "sit down shoes" too.

Who am I fooling.  I just might buy a pair to bring out of hiding after Terry's gone to work and just put them on to admire and drink my coffee.