Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Style pains

Photo by Flickr user swister_p.

I was asking for this.

I’ve been swaggering in skyscraper-high heels since I learned how to balance in them, long before I could even drive a car. It’s tough being 5-foot-nothing-tall. I tried to compensate.

Until my brown and gold suede wedges did me in last month. The walk home from the club that evening was like walking on nails. I woke up in the middle of the night with electric shocks going through my feet. Now I can’t run without fighting bucking charley horses in both arches.

My dad, who is definitely not a doctor, diagnosed me with “plantar fasciitis.” Dr. Dad says no running. No tall shoes until it goes away.

Dr. Dad has relegated me to sneakers. With arch supports. I’ve had to entirely reinvent my style. Pretend I’m Sporty Spice instead of the love child of Posh and Baby.

Granted, my red Saucony kicks beat grandmotherly orthopedic flats. But it hurt my heart on Saturday to pair them with my satin corset and lacy cardigan, while a pair of stilettos was shining, abandoned, in my closet.

Plus, now everyone knows my true height.


No comments:

Post a Comment