My dad always complains that I don't wear sensible shoes. Ever since I was a kid, I have been mesmerized by the teetering-tottering stiletto heels that the "grown up girls" wear. A best friend and I even spent an entire afternoon "shopping" for what many consider to be the Holy Grail of fashionable footwear - Christian Louboutins (don't worry, I didn't buy them - I already have enough debt from law school). The popularity of the label is attributable to the fact that CLs (are exorbitantly expensive and) sport some of the highest heels of any on the market. That makes them exceptionally desirable to me, much to dad's dismay.
Yesterday I caught myself contemplating the crumbling asphalt that tops the parking lot next to the court where I work. There are patches where the owners have repaved with something smoother than the original mixture, and I always go way out of my way to walk on those spots instead - even though I don't care to spend more time outside walking in the Houston weather than I have to. I noticed that I plot out my path four, five, even six footsteps ahead, just to make sure I can keep my teetering-tottering heels (and me) upright.
Maybe it's because of that time my heel got wedged in the teeny gap between building-floor and elevator-floor, which almost got me mowed over by a crowd of busy business people that were trying to rush into the empty elevator from behind me. Or possibly, I've ripped off one too many of the little plastic end-of-the-heel-nail nubby things by not being careful to mind the random chinks in brick sidewalks where the mortar has crumbled away. For better or for worse, my addiction to fancy, tall shoes has taught me to step with caution, and with purpose.
So yes, I occasionally get crippling blisters from shoes that fit, but nonetheless rub because nature didn't intend for me to tip-toe around all day. And it's true that I sometimes come home and audibly sigh when I step out of my three-inch work pumps and into my care-worn flip-flops. And despite the fact that I can't cough up $500+ for those ruby-red-soled designer gems, I will never stop thinking about the day when I will traipse around - insensibly - in them.
Because I know that they keep me thinking ahead, smart, and stylish. On sidewalks and in life. And that's worth more than the few aches and pains I get in the process.