And its twice official, wearing heels is definitely good for you.
Yes, the experts on this are now agreeing with what I have been screaming at foghorn volume about all along. Wearing a slight heel to your shoe is actually good for you. Yes, and all them wearing ballet flats and thong slippers and such like are actually just sitting ducks for a lifetime of visits to the podiatrist or orthopedic surgeon or some doctor I forget exactly specializing in what.
In celebration of this piece of news in the newspapers yesterday, I promptly ran out and bought myself a pair of greeny yellow patent leather peep toe wedgeheels. No, contrary to perception that is not puke colour. It is a very smart colour, and there were nice patent red numbers out there too, but I didn’t want Minnie Mouse calling for her shoes. I get real nervous talking to mice. Scampering on top of chairs and shrieking in the midst of conversation does not for a dignified stance make.
Peep toe, patent leather wedgeheeled pumps. Yup that’s a mouthful, I agree. But true shoe aficionados out there will immediately get what I am talking about and give me solid sensible tips about what I can now wear this colour with. Given the state of my wardrobe, browns and blacks are the sole colours populating it at the moment, and sure, they go with anything.
Why are heels good for you? For one they make you look taller. When you are a five foot nothing person like I am, with lots of fat on the carcass that you need to visually distribute through optical illusions, wedgeheels and very high stilettos quickly become your best friend when you realize that men you really, really want to date in a tongue hanging out, panting sort of way, pat you on the head like a pet dog (if men like small fluffy dogs that is) and move on to taller, more statuesque women, who swish kilometers above your head and probably need oxygen masks to breath since their head might be somewhere in the upper layers of the stratosphere. And you are not content to set your sights lower, never mind what they say about short men and Napolean Bonaparte and Charlie Chaplin being fine examples of said maxim.
Secondly, when you walk on heels your posture and gait changes. You swish your butt a little. Unwittingly.You automatically sit straighter walk straighter. And you’re less likely to slouch. I remember the nuns at the convent school I attended constantly haranguing us not to slouch, the most effective remedy for unwarranted slouching in class being five stingers with the ruler on the calves. I now have solid calves and I know just whom to thank for them. And I don’t slouch. Not much at least. Not like the current generation of ballet flat wearers who drape themselves over any piece of available furniture like limp asaparaguses (asparagii?) begging to be mopped up by the cleaning staff.
And considering I would jump into moving into the platform trains at the peak of my youth in four inch heels, jump straighter too. These are Mumbai locals I am talking about. That is no achievement to be laughed off scathingly. That is a feat to be noted down in the diary with solemnity and perused at leisure and marveled at. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to get myself into a stationary local train right now even with hiking boots, and armed bodyguards to frogmarch me into one even if my life depended on it, what can I say. I was younger then and fitter, and didn’t have a child to go home to.
Thirdly, when you wear a pair of well constructed heels, you are a lady. You are no longer a girl. I passed out of the hallowed hallways of girldom over two and some decades ago, and have absolutely no chance of being mistaken as someone who is anywhere near the precints, except perhaps as a matron enforcing light out deadlines. And I don’t intend to shovel myself into matron territory anytime soon. Thinking of it, the only folks who wear flats are the very young and the very old most times. And having said this, I am very clear that all parents who allow their toddlers to mince around in two inch heels need to be sentenced a lifetime of mincing around being permastrapped to fetish heels. Yes, including the male progenitor of said child. No, it definitely does not look cute when a three year old minces around delicately because she cant break out into a full blooded run when she pleases. That saying, about there being a time and place for everything. Well, three and four and five right upto 14 is no time or place for heels of any kind.
Yes, I know the girls are sitting on live wires to wear their first pair of High Heels and sashay off into public. Call me old fashioned if you like, but that brings me to my next blasphemy, beauty contests for children. With little girls being primped and permed and mascaraed and blushed on and taught to smile coquettishly and what not. Makes my stomach turn and empty up its contents onto the nearest available human being. But then I am a grim old lady and don’t see the humour in most things. My distaste for beauty contests might just be an acute case of sour grapes since no such crowns have ever landed on my head, except perhaps for the occasional dunce cap in Mathematics class. Because of course, I didn’t have the height mandated for such crowns. Which brings me back to my pet peeve, the lack of height. Which brings us back to them heels and the need for.
Seriously though, all my fluffy reasons aside wearing a slight heel everyday is good for you. And wearing way high heels rocks the libido. That I know. And what more excuse would you need. As for backaches and pressure on the knees and such gory, totally unappealing things immediately reminiscent of sweet old ladies with walkers and dentures out in the glass on the dresser, they don’t deserve to be in the same paragraph as libido so am going to ignore them blatantly and deal with them when I come to them. Maybe I’ll just have to get into them sturdy flats once them knees go after all these years of teetering around dangerously in heels more vertiginous than the ones deemed medically appropriate by them podiatrists and orthopedic surgeons and knee doctors and their coven. Perhaps I might just then be compelled to get into flats.
Do those Chinese bone stretching and height increasing thingies work after 38? Am getting rather brave after the LASIK.