Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Walking in heels

The are many things that I can claim as a talent, it's true that I have more of a claim on some than on others, but if there is one thing I can't claim to be able to do, it's walk in heels. Unless I'm drunk of course, and then I at least, am convinced that me walking in heels is a good combination. As it is, very few people have seen me in heels, so would have no way of verifying or disputing my claims, but believe me when I tell you, it's not a strength.

My usual excuse is that I'm tall, so I don't need heels. Which is true-ish. I am tall-ish and therefore probably don't need them, but I see a future where my kids, or at the very least three of them, are going to tower over me, and I won't feel so tall any more. There's a good chance all four will, what then? Either I get used to being the shorty of the family, invest in some stilts (I'm thinking that if I can't master heels, I can't manage stilts) or manage to walk in heels.

What's probably more to the truth is that I'm generally not the most well turned out in terms of clothing. I'd rather wear jeans and a t-shirt most of the time. I hardly ever wear make up and my hair does what it likes. I'd have to admit that much of this is to do with laziness. I remember being 14, and being excited about finally being old enough to wear make-up to school. I lasted a whole week. The idea of extra time in bed, or getting up and putting my face on, no contest, the bed won. I haven't really changed since.

I wonder what my daughters will be like. L in particular loves dressing up and make up, now. At the same age I was exactly the same. In my first year of secondary school, my English project was all about make-up, no really, my choice. Somewhere between childhood and my teenage years the love of heels and make up got lost. Unless you count the multi coloured nails I always wore until I started working in a bar and it just wasn't practical that is.