I am an average girl with an average height of 5 ft and 2 inches. I commute to my workplace availing the public transport, pretty average stuff again. Nothing exciting ever happens to me. My students are mostly taller than me in standards 9-12. My Head of the Dept. is again 5 ft 8 inches tall. And to add to my woes, I recently read in the newspapers that Napoleon Bonaparte was actually a standard 5 ft 5 inches tall, and not as we believed otherwise ( i.e. tiny, short, dwarfish etc. etc.) It seems that I am the Gulliver lost in the land of Brobdingnag.
Hailing from the middle class, I never had the chance to put on heels. Stilettos and high-heeled wedges were something I saw girls wear in glossy colored magazines. My parents always favored comfort over style. So I was forever made to buy the uninteresting looking but comfy shoes. "In face of danger at least you'll be able to run in them. These heels are useless. Just for show", my mother opined. It doesn't mean that I never did try to put them on. In my college days I conducted the experiment freely in my hostel, away from the boundaries set by my parents. The result was however a sad one.Either I bruised my ankle badly or I toppled down unable to maintain my balance. Of course I weighed about 60 kgs then and it all added to my despair. Nevertheless, I never ever stopped thinking about them. I never really understood how those models strutted so confidently in them or how the lovely movie stars danced in them. Didn't it hurt the soles of their feet? Didn't they get shoe bites? They looked so happy and confident in them..as if the shoes had some kind of magic that rubbed on to their personality and enhanced their oomph factor. I looked at my sore feet and threw away the heels. There was no magic in it for me. There was nothing but pain and misery. Just my luck! I guessed.
Later I learnt that wearing heels and a desire to look tall does not limit itself to the external beauty alone but it has a tremendous psychological bearing on one's self. Women tend to wear feels to equal their male counterparts subconsciously For long, women have been considered weak and delicate, in need of protection. But in comes, the image of an independent femme fatale, the product of a brand new world, click-clocking the ground in her pair of enviable stilettos, immediately getting the attention of the male (as well as the female). The heels symbolize power, force, grit and confidence. It adds liberally to her sex appeal. She becomes a woman who is capable of making her own decisions, facing her problems with an air of dignity. It renders her an elegance that was till then unnoticed.
But all things said and done I was really waiting for my fate to turn around with regard to heels. Recently when I walked into a branded shoe's showroom with my friend in tow, I chanced upon a magnificent pair of heels in leather. It was truly spectacular. And guess what! it fit me like a dream! I was thrilled to see myself in those shoes ad for some unexplained reasons, they seemed so soft and comfortable too! I thought that this was the moment that I had been waiting for all my life. My first pair of heels ever. I nearly had a heart attack on hearing its price though. It cost me Rs. 4,500. Yet I considered it an investment of a lifetime. I as too happy that day. Too excited. Couldn't wait to wear it the next day. But happiness has a very short life span. And mine ended very soon too.
The first day when I wore them, it was all good for a few minutes. The problem started when I started walking on the uneven road leading to my bus stand. Now these pretty heels are not meant to be worn on dusty, pot-holed roads. But if I had to use them, I had no other option left. Next, I elbowed my way into a very crowded bus. Initially, I felt tall and great but gradually my little toe felt crushed inside the shoes as the bus-jerks and my finding no seat in the us wasn't really helping me out. Yet I tried to be positive about the whole thing. The 5 minute walk from the bus stand to my school was excruciatingly painful. I winced in pain and slowed down my pace. As I made my way to the staff room which was on the second floor, I was already a dead woman. But then a miracle took place. My colleagues noticed the click-clock of my heels and gasped in admiration. I simply beamed with pride even though a part of myself was dying inside: the pain was getting unbearable. As I was seldom praised for anything I did, I didn't want to be critical of my only source of being noticed. I was more or less as tall as my students then, and they were pleasantly surprised too.
When the room was more or less empty in any given chance, I took off the monsters off my feet, and walked around barefoot. Oh! the simple joys of life. Yet we need to put up pretenses. To survive and excel. The Head of the Dept., who had dismissed me as fashionably-challenged, stopped to compliment my shoes. And that was that! I decided to embrace the pain forever. For the magic of the heels had cast its desired effect. But it came with a cost. I was reminded of the Hindi proverb, " Kuch paane ke liye kuch khona padta hain"(You need to lose something to gain another). And I had made my choice.
The agreement with the Devil hence struck I embraced the agony,
It won me great attention and never-before felt joys of flattery.
I walked tall, as the world looked small..so tiny beneath me,
The high heels with all its vices had finally set my soul free....
And look, the pain was turned me into a poet! So here's another plus for my coveted pair of shoes. Well, but all things said and done, I have at present gone accustomed to the little shots of pain. The sting has lessened since the first day of its wearing, but its still there. I'll wear it for a few more days, and then will cast it aside. For magic should be brought out on special days, and not overused till it expires.
Hailing from the middle class, I never had the chance to put on heels. Stilettos and high-heeled wedges were something I saw girls wear in glossy colored magazines. My parents always favored comfort over style. So I was forever made to buy the uninteresting looking but comfy shoes. "In face of danger at least you'll be able to run in them. These heels are useless. Just for show", my mother opined. It doesn't mean that I never did try to put them on. In my college days I conducted the experiment freely in my hostel, away from the boundaries set by my parents. The result was however a sad one.Either I bruised my ankle badly or I toppled down unable to maintain my balance. Of course I weighed about 60 kgs then and it all added to my despair. Nevertheless, I never ever stopped thinking about them. I never really understood how those models strutted so confidently in them or how the lovely movie stars danced in them. Didn't it hurt the soles of their feet? Didn't they get shoe bites? They looked so happy and confident in them..as if the shoes had some kind of magic that rubbed on to their personality and enhanced their oomph factor. I looked at my sore feet and threw away the heels. There was no magic in it for me. There was nothing but pain and misery. Just my luck! I guessed.
Later I learnt that wearing heels and a desire to look tall does not limit itself to the external beauty alone but it has a tremendous psychological bearing on one's self. Women tend to wear feels to equal their male counterparts subconsciously For long, women have been considered weak and delicate, in need of protection. But in comes, the image of an independent femme fatale, the product of a brand new world, click-clocking the ground in her pair of enviable stilettos, immediately getting the attention of the male (as well as the female). The heels symbolize power, force, grit and confidence. It adds liberally to her sex appeal. She becomes a woman who is capable of making her own decisions, facing her problems with an air of dignity. It renders her an elegance that was till then unnoticed.
But all things said and done I was really waiting for my fate to turn around with regard to heels. Recently when I walked into a branded shoe's showroom with my friend in tow, I chanced upon a magnificent pair of heels in leather. It was truly spectacular. And guess what! it fit me like a dream! I was thrilled to see myself in those shoes ad for some unexplained reasons, they seemed so soft and comfortable too! I thought that this was the moment that I had been waiting for all my life. My first pair of heels ever. I nearly had a heart attack on hearing its price though. It cost me Rs. 4,500. Yet I considered it an investment of a lifetime. I as too happy that day. Too excited. Couldn't wait to wear it the next day. But happiness has a very short life span. And mine ended very soon too.
The first day when I wore them, it was all good for a few minutes. The problem started when I started walking on the uneven road leading to my bus stand. Now these pretty heels are not meant to be worn on dusty, pot-holed roads. But if I had to use them, I had no other option left. Next, I elbowed my way into a very crowded bus. Initially, I felt tall and great but gradually my little toe felt crushed inside the shoes as the bus-jerks and my finding no seat in the us wasn't really helping me out. Yet I tried to be positive about the whole thing. The 5 minute walk from the bus stand to my school was excruciatingly painful. I winced in pain and slowed down my pace. As I made my way to the staff room which was on the second floor, I was already a dead woman. But then a miracle took place. My colleagues noticed the click-clock of my heels and gasped in admiration. I simply beamed with pride even though a part of myself was dying inside: the pain was getting unbearable. As I was seldom praised for anything I did, I didn't want to be critical of my only source of being noticed. I was more or less as tall as my students then, and they were pleasantly surprised too.
When the room was more or less empty in any given chance, I took off the monsters off my feet, and walked around barefoot. Oh! the simple joys of life. Yet we need to put up pretenses. To survive and excel. The Head of the Dept., who had dismissed me as fashionably-challenged, stopped to compliment my shoes. And that was that! I decided to embrace the pain forever. For the magic of the heels had cast its desired effect. But it came with a cost. I was reminded of the Hindi proverb, " Kuch paane ke liye kuch khona padta hain"(You need to lose something to gain another). And I had made my choice.
The agreement with the Devil hence struck I embraced the agony,
It won me great attention and never-before felt joys of flattery.
I walked tall, as the world looked small..so tiny beneath me,
The high heels with all its vices had finally set my soul free....
And look, the pain was turned me into a poet! So here's another plus for my coveted pair of shoes. Well, but all things said and done, I have at present gone accustomed to the little shots of pain. The sting has lessened since the first day of its wearing, but its still there. I'll wear it for a few more days, and then will cast it aside. For magic should be brought out on special days, and not overused till it expires.
Thoroughly liked your writing and your experience with heels. Hope your leg is getting accustomed to heels.
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