Monday, 4 February 2013

Sexy shoes

I love shoes. I am drawn to elegant heels, fun colours, shiny and glittery finishes. I pick them up jn shops, try them on, ooh and ah over them. I admire the way they make my feet and legs look in the mirror. Then I largely put them back and walk away because I know I won't be able to walk in them without feeling like I'm crossing hot coals.

But sometimes, just sometimes, a pair of shoes is just soooooo lovely that I ignore the voice of the sensible ugg-wearing me in my head and buy a pair of silly shoes.

I have one pair of purple patent jewelled wedges that are so uncomfortable that I can only ever wear them to dinner parties where I know we can drive to the front door and then I will be sitting down all night. And they even hurt to sit down in! But they are so beautiful I persist with them.

And there was the pair of strappy high heeled sandals which I bought for a posh birthday barbecue. When we arrived we discovered the birthday boys patio was deep gravel. Turns out it's almost impossible to walk in deep gravel in slim six inch heels.

For our anniversary last year I had the most stupid pair of towering platforms which saved me a fortune in having my long dress taken up but left me in fear of breaking an ankle, and bemused DH who is used to looking at the top of my head and was suddenly and unexpectedly making eye contact with me for the first time in 20 years without the help of steps!

And before you message me about heel guards, party pads for the ball of the foot and blister plasters- I know and I've tried them all!

This weekend I went to visit friends and family who I don't see very often. We were going out and I wasn't sure what to wear but settled on smart jeans and a nice top, and took nice (new) black suede platform shoes so I would be truly smart casual.

I can't do bare foot shoe wearing so made a mental note to buy pop socks to wear under my jeans when we had time to pop to the shops in the Midlands. I know I know, they are the most unattractive items of clothing a woman can own. I'm sorry, but they are useful.

Distracted by the many shiny delights of Westfields Merry Hill Centre I totally forgot about the knee-highs, but still wanted to wear the shoes. I decided to try the barefoot thing again and in my DSS's living room on the carpet my new shoes were fine.

A short walk from door to car told a different story. We needed to stop for petrol and I was delighted to see a petrol station with a little Tesco store attached. I dashed in but all they stocked was tights. Better than nothing I thought so bought a pair and asked if there was a toilet I could change in. No. So I headed for the car, moved it from the brightly lit forecourt to a darker parking area and proceeded to push my seat back as far as it would go and unbuckle my jeans belt. DH was delighted by this turn of events until I brusquely informed him I was just putting tights on under my jeans and he could keep his hands to himself.

Wriggly change of clothes completed we carried on to where we were meeting my cousin where all I had to do was walk from car park to pub.

The shoes were still killing me but looked great while I was sitting in the pub. I noticed my cousin was wearing a fabulous pair of peep-toe black patent platforms and while glad we had decided on the same sort of outfit, couldn't help silently wondering if they were hurting her feet too.

A few hours later my cousin's DH suggested a meal a short walk away. I did my best to stride elegantly but felt like one of those geisha girls who have had their feet bound. Every step was agony and I was glad to sink into my seat at the restaurant.

I had intended to wear the shoes when I visited my techy friend ( author of fascinating geek-friendly blog e-clecticism)who had offered to tinker with my blog to make it easier for my readers to find,share and follow madmumof7.com (hope you notice the difference- he's done a great job)
But when he mentioned we would be going out for lunch I deduced that this might well involve walking so reluctantly put the beautiful shoes back into my suitcase and settled on my divinely warm comfortable, fur lined Skechers Tone up boots.

It was the right decision as we trekked across grass, uneven pavements and a carpark to the pub my boots were as comfortable as a pair of slippers.

I know I should be sensible and forgo bunions and blisters but as I have said before I refuse to give into my age gracefully and will be limping with a pained smile to dressy events for as long as I can force Cinderella shoes onto my ugly sister style feet!





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