My Footwear Fiasco

Tonight I witnessed a very sweet girl marry the man of her dreams. She was obviously over-the-moon delighted as she looked into his eyes and committed to be his for a lifetime. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, several of us scoured the few stores in our tiny hometown mall looking for just the right outfit for the occasion. I, myself, even bought a new pair of heels. Now, those who know me know that I am seen more often than not wearing boots. Not the spiky heel kind but the kind with the one-inch chunky combat boot kind of heel.  But I have needed a pair of basic black dressy shoes for a long time and this was my chance to justify the purchase. Surprisingly, I found the perfect pair at the right price the day before the wedding. They were a little higher than I would have liked but I thought "Hey, I used to wear these all the time. I can do this.". It turns out I was wrong. Driving in heels does not seem like it would be much different than in any other shoes but it definitely is quite different. It was a shaky start but I caught on quickly and we were on our way. As my friend and I arrived at the venue and got out of the truck, I began to wonder if I had made the wrong decision regarding my footwear. I wobbled along about as graceful as a hippo on roller skates. It was a bit of a trek to the ceremony site and I regained my sea legs and my confidence though my feet were beginning to talk to me quietly already. When the wedding ceremony was over and we headed toward the reception hall I was still doing alright. But in the cocktail area, as we waited for the photographer to finish up with the bride and groom, there was absolutely nowhere to sit. I stood there trying to look graceful and poised, hoping no one could tell that I was shifting my weight from one foot to the other as the pain in my toes and balls of my feet grew less bearable by the second. By the time we were directed from the cocktail area to the reception, each step brought with it shooting fire and, more than a few times, I wavered and almost lost my balance. I pushed through the pain only by reminding myself that I had endured much worse pain for longer at Parris Island and survived. I was NOT going to let a pair of classy black heels get the best of me. When we finally rounded the corner to the lawn strewn with tables and (blessed sweet wonderful) chairs, my feet felt like fire and ice all at the same time and I was not sure how I was going to get across the grassy area between the hard slate steps I was standing on and those amazing-looking chairs. If you have ever worn spiky heels and tried to walk across grass then you know what I am getting at. You cannot, when you walk across grass in shoes like this, put any weight whatsoever on your heels or your heels will sink into the soft earth under the pressure of the weight of your body. Then you run the risk of walking right out of your shoes. You must shift all of your weight to the ball of your foot instead. At this point, that was almost impossible for me but I again conjured my strength by mentally drill-instructing myself and determining that I would not allow these beautiful black demon shoes to make me the laughingstock of the party. As it turned out, I made it to the table without falling on my face or losing a shoe. The night was fair and cool. The breeze blew in off the lake. The music was nostalgically wonderful. And the food was fantastic! (I did have to beg a good-looking younger gentleman at our table to chase me down a glass of water because I just couldn't bring myself to stand up and walk back across the grass again when I had just sat down safely with my plate of prime rib and loaded mashed potatoes.) As plates were cleaned and cleared away, the music ramped up to a faster pace, signaling that the party had begun. Unfortunately, it was getting dangerously near my bedtime. I ventured out one final time to place my gift with all the others and then headed toward the front of the house and the parking lot beyond. As soon as I was around the corner and out of eyeshot of the party, I gingerly pulled my shoes from my throbbing feet. The cool slate of the walkway was heaven beneath my tortured toes and I breathed an honest sigh of glorious relief. I may well wear those shoes again one day but I can tell you it will not be soon and it will not be often.