I Feel Bad About HER Neck

 The Better Half and I went out on the town Saturday night to a trendy new shopping area that seems to have a new club or restaurant opening every weekend. It's a place to see and be seen in as you digest everyone's interpretation of what constitutes a good Saturday night look. (I opted for comfort over sexy with leggings, but we've been married for 21 years and I get away with that.)

I have to say, the people watching proved quite satisfying. Most everyone looked great. No potential wardrobe malfunctions, no mutton dressed as lamb. Lots of skinny jeans (you know how I feel about those from last week's post) and stilettos. I've never seen so many stilettos in one place.

One particular lady caught my eye. Of course she was blonde and both younger and thinner than me with a rack of fake boobs underneath a sweater I estimated to be two sizes too small. However that wasn't what peaked my interest (I can't speak for my husband). Her shoes were spectacular--stilettos on steroids. Six inches at least in shiny, nude patent leather with a platform underneath the ball of her foot. She stood taller than her date. In fact she was taller than anyone in the small group of us crowed around the directory map.

Looking at her shoes I wondered, I don't know how she does it.

As she walked away, I noticed that she barely could do it. With each step her left foot rocked to the right side. As first I thought she stumbled on a pebble, but as I continued my surveillance (how could I not?) she continued her wobbly gait. 

My anxiety level rose as I felt the doom impending. She was going down, if not right now, surely after a few cocktails. And I (I am so ashamed to admit) kinda wanted to see it. I mean, why? Why would you go out for the evening in shoes you could barely walk in? She was lovely without the shoes. Why risk your neck?

Because all of us have suffered for beauty at least once in our lives. We can't help ourselves. That night I wore a strapless dress. I hate my strapless bra. It's a well-made one too. They're never comfortable though and require constant attention. But my husband loves my shoulders and I needed to balance out my leggings and flats.

I have a pair of smoking hot black, wedge boots. I can wear them for about 35 minutes before my feet start to ache. I've mistakenly worn Spanx to events where I not only needed to look great, but was also expected to eat (BTW, Spanx and a buffet don't mix well). My husband bought me a sundress for Christmas that is held up by string. It is a funky bohemian print, exactly my style, but I haven't the heart to tell him that the strings holding it up dig into my skin. It's still too cold to wear it and I'm hoping he'll forget about it by summertime.

How have you suffered for beauty? We all have a story.

As for the blond in the stilettos, I think she made it through the night. I never heard any sirens. I have to give her credit, I couldn't have walked a block in her shoes, let alone a mile!