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Can someone enlighten me as to why I can no longer confidently wear heels? Like, my body is allergic to them. My walk, with heels, is not dissimilar to my unsteady one year old. My face screws up in concentration with every step and I am sure I hold my breath for each ten steps my wobbly, terrified feet take.
Is there some chemical imbalance that occurred during labour with my first child that rendered this skill redundant? Like an organic change in my body that felt this ability would not be needed for the rest of my existence.
I mean there is
SelfishMother.com
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something about heels isn’t there? that is the image of a woman? a bit like nail varnish. I don’t know why? As a little girl I would crush drink cans with the heel of my foot until they gripped my shoes. I would then clomp along the pavement outside my house. In my head it was one of the things you would look forward to, when you would become a ’grown up’ high heels, lipstick, nail varnish and drinking coke.
I remember working in the City and at Harrods Head office rocking some lovely Kurt Geigers as my work shoes, work shoes! WHAT. My feet
SelfishMother.com
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these days sit snuggly in a pair of filthy Stan Smiths or some ankle boots and although they are thankful for it, they do deserve a treat every now and then do they not?
Oh how I would love to stroll down our perfectly pretentious High Street, confidently strutting my 5ft2 stuff in some deliciously irresponsible high heels.
I heard a rumour that your saggy, post baby boobs come back to life during/after menopause. Might the power of walking in heels too???
SelfishMother.com
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Amy Cooper - 18 Dec 15
Can someone enlighten me as to why I can no longer confidently wear heels? Like, my body is allergic to them. My walk, with heels, is not dissimilar to my unsteady one year old. My face screws up in concentration with every step and I am sure I hold my breath for each ten steps my wobbly, terrified feet take.
Is there some chemical imbalance that occurred during labour with my first child that rendered this skill redundant? Like an organic change in my body that felt this ability would not be needed for the rest of my existence.
I mean there is something about heels isn’t there? that is the image of a woman? a bit like nail varnish. I don’t know why? As a little girl I would crush drink cans with the heel of my foot until they gripped my shoes. I would then clomp along the pavement outside my house. In my head it was one of the things you would look forward to, when you would become a ‘grown up’ high heels, lipstick, nail varnish and drinking coke.
I remember working in the City and at Harrods Head office rocking some lovely Kurt Geigers as my work shoes, work shoes! WHAT. My feet these days sit snuggly in a pair of filthy Stan Smiths or some ankle boots and although they are thankful for it, they do deserve a treat every now and then do they not?
Oh how I would love to stroll down our perfectly pretentious High Street, confidently strutting my 5ft2 stuff in some deliciously irresponsible high heels.
I heard a rumour that your saggy, post baby boobs come back to life during/after menopause. Might the power of walking in heels too???
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Self Employed Mum of three. Blagging her way through parenthood.
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