05 July, 2010
In the name of fashion
What's worse? That I spent $100 on quite possibly the chicest black heels I have ever seen, albeit a half size too small, or 20 bucks on a pair of gray, stonewashed Levi jeans from the men's department, that are quite possibly circa 1980? I felt like the ugly stepsister trying to shove my foot into the glass slipper and then a bit like Large Marge (Amazon Woman if I make it an outfit) after the boy at the checkout told me he tried on the Levi's just days before, and the size 29 fit him perfectly. And now, it's just occurred to me that I spent way too much money on items that don't come close to proper fits. Stacy and Clinton would be mortified. However, my new wedges from the Banana Republic Outlet received a drive-by compliment as I was getting into my car today. That makes roughly 10 inches of "high-heel" purchased this Independence Day weekend. And as luck would have it, today as Carlos and I ran up Mount Sanitas, I slipped on a boulder and crashed knee first onto the rock. A goose egg has replaced a missing chunk of skin, and walking has become somewhat difficult. Do I dare admit that I move better in stilettos than a pair of sturdy sneakers? Just a few weeks ago my doctor advised against my heel fetish to avoid a future laced with knee problems. And should I be bruised and immobile tomorrow, I will also find another doctor to explain it to.