High heels = zombie bait
02/06/2012 11:22 AM
02/06/2012 11:27 AM
I want you to cast your mind back to every horror movie you’ve ever seen, specifically the moment when the terrified woman running through the graveyard falls down and lies there helplessly, waiting to be attacked.
What does that flailing, helpless woman always have on her feet?
2. Sensible footwear
3. High heels
If you answered No. 1, congratulations. That was the correct answer.
What, no? You’re saying I’m wrong, that she actually is always wearing high heels, not agricultural products?
Well, OK, but really, cantaloupes would make just as useful protective foot coverings, and they wouldn’t have the drawback of injuring her legs, not to mention making her fall down to become a zombie taco.
This has been on my mind lately, ever since I read a New York Times story about how wearing high heels actually deforms your legs by shortening the calf muscle.
I know for a fact this is true, because it happened to me. Back when I was a hot, swinging chick, (stop laughing, children, I was and I have pictures to prove it) I used to live in high heels 14 hours a day.
Then I began having agonizing leg pain when I went to my aerobics class, even more than the ordinary agony that the “No pain, no gain” era classes used to produce.
I went to the doctor, who told me that wearing heels had shortened the back of my calves, so I couldn’t even jump for joy without screaming in pain.
I went home and threw my heels in the trash can and never wore them again.
It was a liberating experience, sort of like when I smoked my last cigarette and chucked the disgusting ashtrays forever.
Since then, life has been much better. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have been able to chase down and lasso my two kids over the past eight years if I were still wearing heels.
And I certainly would not have been able to keep up with the constant maintenance of the acrylic fingernails I also wore during that era, which now I look back and call “Marla: The Vain Years.”
Now, I no longer endure pain and spend pots of money just to impress people. I know my own worth. And, if you don’t, well, I really don’t care.
Decades after the women’s movement liberated them from the house, it horrifies me that smart women still voluntarily put themselves into bondage to satisfy some evil fashion demon that tells them to cripple themselves for beauty.
People my age shake their heads in wonder at kids who wear their pants so low they can’t run away from a bully. But, really, a woman in Jimmy Choo heels and a set of long nails is even more helpless and vulnerable. She can’t even open a can of Coke without using a pencil to pry it open.
She has to remove her shoes to do, well, almost anything except totter around like a feudal Chinese aristocrat with bound feet.
Years ago, I saw an exhibit on ancient Chinese foot binding at the amazing Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto, and it comes to mind whenever I see one of my friends hobbling around on her torture instruments, which not only injure her and make her helpless, but also empty her wallet.
I’d like to see Jimmy Choo in a pair of his own stilettos, chased by zombies through the graveyard. When he falls and is eaten, I would feel like it was somehow poetic justice. Especially if the zombie was a woman who wore his shoes.
Marla Jo Fisher was a workaholic before she adopted two foster kids several years ago. Now she juggles work and single parenting, while being exhorted from everywhere to be thinner, smarter, sexier, healthier, more frugal, a better mom, better dressed and a tidier housekeeper. Contact her at mfisherocregister.com. Read her blog at http://themomblog.freedomblogging.com/category/frumpy-middleaged-mom-marla-jo-fisher/. Distributed by MCT Information Services.
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