Solemates

I have had this argument before and will probably lose again someday but it's worth repeating.

Women's shoes were designed by a man. It's only obvious because they have a way of making you feel great about yourself and yet can cause serious pain at the same time. Some shoes are like that first crush you had in grade school that you adored right up until they pulled down your pants in front of everyone, exposing your Tuesday underwear. And it was NOT Tuesday, it was in fact Wednesday. True story. But no this post is not about relationships, or my repressed memories, but rather, shoes!

As long as I've been short, which is my entire life, I've always been trying to be taller. Even when I was too little for heels I was wearing them anyway. When I was 7, I insisted on wearing my sister's heels out to her 16th birthday dinner. I stuffed socks in the front so my feet halfway fit and I could try to pull off my dress with 2-inch light pink pumps. It didn't take long to realize how ridiculous I looked when the servers in the restaurant were chuckling to themselves at my sad attempt to be fashionable and taller. Maybe that's why I need several pairs of shoes these days to make sure I always have the right heel and the right color for my outfit of choice. Or maybe I am just like every other woman who opts for the big heels. Because I can.



I will never forget a conversation I had with my mom once about her dancing days in her 20s. When I visited her I would show off my shoes and show her pics of my latest adventures and hot outfits. One time she shook her head and said 'Those were the days! I remember being able to wear shoes like that... enjoy it while you can cause one day you won't be able to. But at least you can look back and say DAMN I looked good!'  We laughed but I still think of that when I see a pair of heels I absolutely love. Something fun and 4-5 inches high. Maybe I don't have an outfit yet for them but when i do... DAMN I'll look good!

  

holy hotness

My latest predicament has been moving downtown and within walking distance to Old Sacramento, the Capitol, and umpteen million bars and restaurants. The key words being "walking-distance".  I really haven't lived anywhere that would require more than 5 blocks of walking to and from and anything further I would just drive. Downtown Sacramento however is wide and spread out. Yes there are clumps of good places but there is no main drag where everything you want is located together. It's about a mile walk from home to one cluster, a half mile to the next cluster, half mile to the next, and a mile home. While a mile is just a mile, it's also 5,280 feet, or in DivineENVE terms approximately 2,000 steps. There in lies the problem. No one, not even Carrie Bradshaw herself can walk 4,000 steps roundtrip in heels. Platform wedges, maybe, a short boot, flip flops, ballet flats even. But not a heel.  Case in point.

 

Carrie TV

Carrie real life

Anyway, the flatter alternatives got old really quick when I realized after so many years in heels my feet don't like flats. I don't like feeling the entire surface of my foot on hard pavement. My arch doesn't like having to brace itself, or my toes cling to flip flops I feel like I'm going to walk right out of. The boot does okay but doesn't look quite right in shorts and a tank. This is Sacramento, not the South. Lastly, I don't like flats because it's like announcing to the world I've been lying about not being 5'7" but a sad little 5'4" this whole time! Oh the horror!!!

Well last weekend I broke down and bought some reasonable flats. Something that I could pull off with jeans and a tank top, shorts, or even workout pants so I can look like I'm either on the way to/from the gym when really i just want to be lazy comfortable. I opted for these.

Black pumas

At first they felt about as foreign as moonboots... the Neil Armstrong version not the 80s version. My arch didn't know what to do, but instantly I enjoyed the springy feeling of walking! I lasted the whole day and a bike ride later but my feet didn't let me forget about their contempt of the flat shoe. The middle of my foot ached by the end of the day when I gladly redeemed a foot massage by my boyfriend who took pity on my poor paws.

When it comes to women's shoes, it's all about what you feel best in. I for one feel most confident in a cute heel. They give me the appearance of longer looking legs, a better butt, and reinforce that womanly sway that apparently I've had since I was in diapers. While I may be more practical in my shoe choice these days, I know I will be that woman wearing heels until the day I no longer can. And by no longer I mean by the time my feet start looking like a ped egg commercial because I will not be wearing socks with my sandals. Or those clog looking things. Or anything with velcro. And don't even get me started on crocs.

I have discovered one thing to make my highest heels more bearable though and that is the sticky gel pads and grip stickers (available at DSW) because men's invention of these types of shoes don't always come with the most logical feature - traction. I'm sure there's a joke in here about men's aversion to things that stick, cling, or otherwise chafe. Hmm. I think I'll leave that one alone. 

Resurfaced

Well now that sounds like I got a face lift.  No lift, same face, just a few more wrinkles and a lot more freckles than the last time you saw me.

I recognize that I haven't written a blog post in some time, but most people who are followers here know that I've been dealt a DOOSEY of a 2011 so far. In fact, my whirlwind starting Dec 22, 2010 when I was rear-ended by a teenager and suffered a herniated disc in my neck. Subsequently stopped working out to risk further injury. My biological mom passed away on January 10. Causes were undetermined, but we believe she passed from complications from pneumonia and 25 years of very bad treatment of her body. She was 57. I retreated into a depression after discovering that the world does NOT stop while you're grieving. I still went to work (most of the time), saw my therapist (okay once), and generally felt overwhelmed (all of the time).

My job transferred me to a land far far away. Unrelated to any missed workdays on my part, they actually closed our office and split us three ways. I got the 30-mile commute, but nifty perks like my own office and a fresh new start.

I moved in together with my boyfriend. I haven't written much about him here, but since he doesn't read this thing anyway, it can be our dirty little secret. He is my missing puzzle piece. We click, laugh all the time, fight like two retarded people who are terrified of losing each other. It's funny in a non-humorous sort of way. What's the word for that? Oh yeah, relationship. But, our saving grace is that we really do enjoy each other. We aren't that lame couple who finishes each others sentences or make the world vomit from the baby talk. I actually try not to be one of those annoying "we" talkers... "we" don't watch american idol. I watch american idol and he tolerates it. comprende?

As I resurface from my post-mother's day 2011 funk, 12 pounds heavier, though mostly adjusted by now to all of my new circumstances. I accept that life does not always go the way you want it, but there is still a lot to be grateful for, such as still having the time to do what you want while you still can. I am developing some new goals, and I know it would probably be a good idea to get back into the gym while I still have some 2009-2010 muscle left. But I am not in a huge hurry to change myself for the future because today, I have a strong, healthy body, and a more positive attitude. What else could I possibly need? Well, an adorable new pair of shoes couldn't hurt!