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I have mixed feelings about stepping out for formal occasions. But we’d accepted an invitation to a charity dinner, so go we must. Fortunately, the little black dress that has seen me through other such occasions still fit, sans Spanx.
The day of the event I discovered a broken heel on my black shoes, requiring an emergency trip to a shoe store where I found myself gazing at potential weapons! Six-inch stiletto heels like evil props from a James Bond movie. But I knew the only person I’d kill with these heels was myself.
“Any dressy black shoes with a lower heel?” I pathetically asked the clerk. She smiled, but I knew she’s thinking I should try the orthopedic store nearby. Nevertheless, she disappeared and reemerged with an elegant pair of pumps. I was pleased to note they didn’t have six-inch heels. By comparison, the four-inch heels didn’t seem that high. In retrospect, I realize that my perception of reality had been seriously altered.
I tried the shoes cautiously, like they were glass slippers. Good fit, but I had yet to stand. I rose slowly, hoping I’d brought my Medicare card. Like a cautious toddler, I took one step, then another. I can do this. Sold!
Went I exited the car I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. I was terrified, afraid to move. Strutting around the shoe store and walking on the pavement was an entirely different experience. Out here, in the real world, my mobility was seriously compromised.
Other women were ambulating without difficulty on heels higher than mine. If they could walk without fear, why couldn’t I? So what if they were 30 years younger? I’d more experience; I’d been walking longer.
It was the longest trek of my life, as challenging as the man who walked a tightrope across the Grand Canyon. In fact, I would’ve happily traded places with him.
I didn’t stand for the entire evening. I’ve no idea what they served for dinner because I was completely preoccupied with the reality that at evening’s end, I’d have to walk all the way back.
The shoes came off as soon as we reached our front door. I happily entered with my feet securely back on the ground. I felt like the winner on “Survivor.” And to think I had been concerned about wearing Spanx!
Note to self: Next time you receive an invitation to a charity ball, send a donation. It’s cheaper and much, much safer.
Susan’s newest book, How to Complain When There’s Nothing to Complain About, is available at Amazon.com and other online book sellers. Read her blog at www.SusansUnfilteredWit.com. Email SusanGoldfein@aol.com