Keeping it light this week, because I am in my head too deep. If I take on a heavy topic, I might accidentally-on-purpose verbally sucker punch somebody, and then I’ll feel worse.
On Sunday, a friend and I were talking about high heels, and why I never wear them.
Never wearing them is an exaggeration on her part. I have a pair of black boots with heals, that I consider my big girl shoes. Much like big girl panties, I put them on when I’m dealing with big girl stuff. I also own two pairs of black sandal heels that I bought for two siblings weddings five years ago. I wore them to the weddings, and when I’m feeling especially daring I wear them now.
But the bottom line is, I really just don’t like wearing high heels.
And my last outing in them illustrates why.
It must have been a Sunday morning at the beginning of June. I was wearing a purple and black dress with black leggings and (you guessed it) a pair of black sandal heels. I was feeling pretty confident.
Thing # 1: They just aren’t comfortable.
Then I got to church and found out I had nursery duty. Guess what? Those heels came off, because it’s just not comfortable squatting and playing with kids while in heels. During the second service, I help in a Sunday School class. One of the kids’ favorite songs to sing is “Hallelu-Hallelujah/Praise Ye the Lord”, which if you didn’t know is an up and down song. Yep, the heels came off again. I spent my morning barefoot.
Thing # 2: They make me waddle. Thus, any cuteness the heels may inherently possess is completely undone by the unattractive waddling.
I then agreed to help out with an outreach my church does on Sunday afternoons. (Back story – I live like 40 minutes away from the church, so it was impractical for me to go home and change, otherwise I would have). My feet and my back were in pain from wearing my heels for about fifteen minutes, and I was taking them off every opportunity I got. Our outreach was outdoors, and I thought, “Eh, that’s fine, I’ll just take my heels off and go barefoot.” Unfortunately there was broken glass everywhere, and I had a vision of myself getting a piece of it stuck in my foot and having to explain to my dad exactly why I was barefoot. (He’s a stickler for shoes being worn outdoors). So I waddled around outreach, and couldn’t play the games with the kids because I was wearing heels. (And I’m pretty sure some people who don’t have the back story like you do were judging me just a little bit for wearing heels to outreach).
Thing # 3: I am already an Amazon woman, I don’t need (or want) to be taller.
Working with kids, I like to be on their level for communication purposes. (Well, actually, that’s true of anybody). That’s already challenging because I’m pretty tall, but in heels, it’s even harder.
I laugh when girls tell me they want a guy who is tall enough that they can heels and he’ll still be taller. I just take the whole heel thing out of the equation, and can be happy with a guy right around my height. (Let me tell you, it opens your world up).
I’d rather wear a cute pair of flats, exude confidence, feel beautiful and comfortable in my own skin. Heels just don’t do that for me.