The Devil Wears Heels

I’m not much of a girly girl at all.

Now and again I may break out in a moment where I do the hair thing and the makeup (cough not really cough), but I really just can’t get into it like a lot of my friends. I’m not into keeping up with the latest fashion, I don’t care about style. I just want to be comfortable. I prefer T-shirts 3 times my size and hoodies and I love jeans. Most of the time I’m not even wearing clothes. I’ll be damned if I have to be fully clothed in my own home. I don’t do my hair often and I wear a durag on my head most of the time or I’m rocking the ponytail to its death. Shoe wise? My biggest problem comes in the form of the devil’s ultimate creation.

High Heels.

I hate those things. Mostly because I can’t walk in them and I can’t walk in them because I had no practice and I had no practice because I never had to wear them! I wasn’t pressured into wearing them. I didn’t have the type of friends that cared about things like that, and my family isn’t one of those families that care about them either. I like my sneakers and sandals. Why would I want to wear Heels, only to have them on for 10 minutes and have to change out of them into sandals anyways because my feet start to hurt? That just seems stupid.

However, lately, I feel like less of a woman because of it.

I look at pictures of everyone else going out and they look so lovely in them and then I look down at my feet and feel so ashamed. I mean, I have awesome legs, it comes with being damn near 6ft tall, so why not show them off? But at the same time I don’t want to embarrass myself and fall flat on my face trying to impress the masses who probably don’t give a damn anyways.

Curse my unstable equilibrium.

I do have some friends who try to get me to wear them and I wish they would understand that they are outside of my comfort zone and maybe they should just leave me alone until I am ready to wear them myself. Forcing me to do it will make me just run from them more. So It may make me a social pariah in the community of women, but that’s okay.

Some of them are really pretty though. I’m tempted on many occasions to buy some and practice walking in them. They do make me feel a lot sexier.

But On the other hand I like to think about it this way.

While They may look better than me wearing them, should there come a time when a derange psychopath chases us on a night out and they’re busy getting out of their shoes, I’ll be hauling ass down the stretch in my slippers.

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