Sunday, October 7, 2012

How not to walk in heels

My bad. Only 4 days into NaBloWriMo before I missed 2 days - FAIL. On Friday I had to choose between going to an Oktoberfest retro video dance party and writing on my blog, and for some reason music and alcohol won. It was pouring when we parked at the festhall, and we had to walk down a steep dirt hill to get to the entrance. Fortunately the parking area was brightly lit, so I was able to see the puddles on the path as I inched sideways down the hill, clutching onto J.'s arm.

 Imagine this path, but on a rainy night

It was disgraceful given I was wearing such baby heels you could barely even call them heels. They were like Suri Cruise training heels. I thought wearing stilettos was like riding a bike and you never forgot how, but after two pregnancies and an extra 30 pounds in the last three years, my feet are whacked up and I'm having to ease into my former heights. So halfway down this hill, I was feeling all old and depressed that I could barely handle my grandma/toddler heels, let alone my normal sexy spikes.

Just then a girl in black tights masquerading as pants strode by in a pair of very nice, very high shiny black stilettos. I watched her mournfully and tried to inch faster down the steep muddy path, but she just walked more quickly. And then she was trotting. Then running. Then shrieking and windmilling her arms as J. and the group of guys behind us started laughing, while the girl flew off the path and plowed face first into the wet grass. That's when I knew it was going to be a good night.

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