Tonight we attended a wedding. We love weddings — we love the friends, the food and especially the cake! That’s the main reason for going to a wedding as far as we care concerned – the cake. But I digress – cake does that to me.
Of course, to attend a wedding one must get dressed up for the occasion. For guys it’s easy — a shirt, a tie, a nice pair of slacks – and of course their usual shoes and socks. For us women, it is a little more difficult – we have to find just the right outfit, fix our hair, put on make up – and of course, the matching shoes. Pat was ready to go – and I had fixed my face, fixed my hair and was dressed up – I just needed the right shoes.
I started to put on my usual flats and then looked longingly at a pair of maroon colored shoes with 3 inch heels which had been languishing in the corner of my closet. I love those shoes – they are beautiful, shiny and make me feel sexy. Yes, they also make me about 6’1″ – but that’s a good thing as far as I’m concerned. I slipped these beauties onto my feet and walked around the bedroom — yes, they looked good with this outfit — yes, I could still walk in them — yes, I would wear them!
We parked about two blocks from the wedding and my husband scolded me for wearing the heels because I wasn’t walking fast enough. I reminded him that I looked good in these magic shoes. We went into the reception and stood around talking to some friends. We stood around eating some appetizers. We stood around having some drinks. We stood around waiting to be seated for dinner.
Now maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t start wearing heels until I went to college – my mother told me I was tall enough and I would never catch a man if I insisted on walking around in shoes that made me over 6 feet tall. Maybe it’s the fact that my feet are as flat as a duck’s – I think I actually suck pavement when I walk. Or maybe, it’s just that I’m too old to wear high heels – nope that can’t be it – I’m going to blame it on my mother. Whatever the reason, after all of that standing my toes starting going numb – not just numb, I had lost all feelings in everything except my bunions – which were burning like they had been branded! I watched all of the other women in the room in high heels – some as high as five inches – and waited to see how they handled losing their sensations in their toes – but didn’t see any squirming going on.
Finally, I decided that I couldn’t stand it any longer – I was afraid I was going to tip over because I didn’t know where my feet were any longer! Luckily, the sensible part of my brain which had not succumbed to the beauty of my maroon shoes, had tucked my sensible black flats into my purse. I hobbled carefully to the women’s restroom with my purse in hand so I could change my shoes in private.
I entered a bathroom stall and took off the last of my youth and tried to squirm quietly into my old age – but alas, it was not to be! As I started to put my foot into my flat shoe, the most horrendous cramp I have ever felt flew up my leg, caused me to gasp, lose my balance and fall into the side of the stall! I was hoping that no one was in the bathroom because I didn’t want someone knocking on the door and asking me if I was okay – just so I would have to answer ‘Oh, I’m all right – I’m just too old for my shoes!’ Luckily, no knock came.
I rubbed the cramp out of my leg, got into my sensible shoes, stuffed the my maroon shoes into my purse and left my youth behind.
It’s official – I like to be able to feel my toes at all times, to walk in long graceful strides without fear of tripping. Yes, it’s official – I’m too old for high heels – and I’m okay with that.