I have done combat with high heels for 22 years now.
They keep trying to infiltrate my cozy little comfort zone, and I am, frankly, losing the battle.
You see, my husband loves high heels. He will tell you that every woman looks amazing in heels and that they make the wearer’s legs look fantastic.
I’ve argued that they aren’t comfortable, they aren’t practical, I have nowhere appropriate to wear them, and, at 5’9″, I feel like Gulliver among the Lilliputians when I do wear them. Besides, what self-respecting tomboy would wear heels? Truth be told, my affection for cowboy boots emerged as a result of this ongoing debate. They were a pseudo-compromise: I loved wearing them, and they were dressier than my Converse. Problem solved.
Except that espadrilles have thrown a monkey-wrench into my program. I bought a pair to wear to a wedding recently, and was horrified to find that they are comfortable, casual enough to wear most anywhere, and they are really, really cute. In fact, I have since worn the shoes on an outing with my husband, and I did not find myself towering over everyone. Worse yet? I felt like a million bucks when I wore them.
As with the low-rise jeans incident, I realize that this is not really about espadrilles. It’s about finding a variation on a theme that works for me. Furthermore, this is a mental problem. Who says tomboys don’t wear heels? Who determines what is an appropriate place to wear heels? I impose unrealistic standards upon myself and then kill myself trying to achieve them.
The difficult reality is that life outside my comfort zone is much happier than life inside. Every single time I have ventured beyond it, the experience has been positive. Every single time I have nestled within, I have stagnated. In this case, when I stopped being determined to “win” the debate, I found a solution that makes everybody happy. I feel good and my husband appreciates the effort, and we have one less ongoing dispute in our marriage.
The shoe skirmish is over, and I have an excuse to go shopping.