Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Twelve years ago I stumbled upon the most incredible pair of high heeled shoes. They were shiny and tall and expensive looking.
Initially I wore them only on weekends and they seemed like a perfect fit. The high heels took me dancing and kept me out late. They spun me around and kept me quite literally on my toes.
While I was wearing my high heels I felt special and more than a few of my friends expressed envy of my fancy feet.
After a while, I started wearing my high heels mid week too and then at some point they just refused to be taken off.
By this point I was well and truly hooked on the shiny high heels and so I kept them on despite a growing number of concerning flaws including:
● A weakness in one heel that required regular attention
● A leather upper that turned out not to be real leather
● and limited breathing space for my toes.
I spent lots of time and money trying to improve my high heels – I had them resoled numerous times but there was nothing I could do about their waning shine.
We’ve been through a lot my high heels and I, and I must admit they are still good for dancing, however they’ve shown themselves to be woefully inadequate for absolutely anything else. They are hopeless around the house, useless in the garden and entirely inappropriate for child care.
Last month I came to a realisation – my high heels are incredibly uncomfortable and over time they’ve caused me immense pain. So I took them off and I have no intention of ever putting them on again.
A few nights ago I waivered and considered putting them on for one last dance – I even got them out of the box in the cupboard but then I looked at my bunions and put the once shiny shoes back in the box.