Why I Hate High Heels

by Meredith Clarke

I’ve always hated high heels. I don’t want to get out of the car because I know that I’ll have to put pressure on my feet again. Driving here was hard enough with three inches of rods attached to them. Whenever I could successfully angle my toes toward the gas petal—my only contact with the floor a plastic 2cm X 2cm pivot point—twenty blunt screwdrivers seemed to wedge their way into my shoe and press ever harder on the pads of my toes and the balls of my feet. I only cried once on the ride, and only for a few minutes. Thankfully I was smart enough to put on water-proof mascara this morning. It’s hard and clumpy, it prevents me from blinking properly, and it isn’t going anywhere.

I have to wear high heels because I’m wearing my mom’s pants because I couldn’t find my grey dress. She hates…

View original post 836 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s