Click click click
Click click click
“What in the world?” Tom turned around from his computer game as I strutted my stuff across the living room floor. Well. More like tried not to fall flat on my face.
“I’m pretending I’m on that MTV show Made where the model comes down to turn the tomboy into a girly girl. They usually make them wear heels all day for practice,” I explained, walking confidently across the room again. I almost tripped into the Christmas tree. Dammit.
“That’s—” Tom began, then stopped. He probably wanted to say that it was bizarre but didn’t want to hurt my feelings.
“I don’t want to trip and embarrass you at the Christmas party on Saturday. So I’m practicing. My feet are already killing me. How I’m going to wear these all night is beyond me. Do you think it would be improper to take them off?” I wondered.
“Probably,” Tom answered. He didn’t want to be known as the one whose wife took off her heels and walked around the room in her nylon covered feet.
Yes, I am wearing nylons even though several people have told me they are out. But I can’t wear nothing because I’m pale. And I haven’t shaved in ages. Though yes, I will shave for the party. But still. I’ll be pale. And someone pointed out that Kate Middleton wears nylons with her dresses all the time so if someone says something I’ll be like, “Royalty does it like this. So there.”
Click click CLUNCK. Oops. Lost my footing again and almost collapsed on our daughter, who sadly can walk in heels better than I can. In fact, she ran and got her heels (plastic princessy ones. She is not Suri Cruise) and went, “Like THIS, Mommy,” and swayed easily across the room.
I tried to copy her movements and she sighed and went, “No.” Just like those models on the MTV show Made.
“Heels are just evil inventions and I hate them,” I sulked. Women normally love shoes. Not me. I love chocolate. And books. And Target shopping trips.
I imagine I’ll be fine at the party. I’ll grip onto Tom for dear life.
Or spend most of the night seated.