Once upon a time I wore high heels all day. They made me taller and more graceful. They gave me that fashionable feeling that lasted until I returned home to three kids, two dogs, a Girl Scout troop, and a cleaning woman who liked to unplug the crock pot. My high heels gave me the illusion of sophistication and success for 40 hours a week for twenty years.
As the years passed, my heels got shorter. I no longer counted success in shoe inches. I counted success in getting up every morning. And, as I was able to get up every morning, I eventually moved into a lifestyle of international travel, most of it paid by employers.
The last time I wore high heels was to my nephew’s wedding two years ago. I had to lean on my son. People thought I was drunk not insanely determined to be fashionable at an elegant event.