I Always Thought Tottering Was Fashionable, Actually (28 + 6)

I have this to say to medical professionals:

I do not agree with this whole ‘you can’t wear heels and carry a baby’ business.

I am a heels wearer. In fact, since I can’t afford to buy shoes, I wear my heels right down to the metal. Do you know why? Because I have funny calves, that’s why. And flat shoes make them look funnier still. What do you think of THAT, medical professionals?

Yes, yes, I know my centre of gravity is all over the place now. And my feet swell at the slightest provocation (like ‘sitting’, ‘walking’ and ‘being at the end of my legs’). And that flats are much more comfortable. And obviously I haven’t forgotten about the Varicose Vein. But I’m feeling pretty frumpy at the moment – this comes with the territory when you keep banging into things with your largeness – and heels make it better.

Sunday was a frumpy-feeling day – in fact it was a carrying-a-torpedo-under-my-top kind of day – and so I got out my magic golden stilettos. I love these shoes, and I wanted to wear them, dang it. Think of the calves, for pity’s sake! And then I staggered out of my front door on the way to church in pouring rain, carrying a handbag, a heavy folder, a bottle of water, a box of raisins, an umbrella and a large French basket, and lost one of my shoes halfway up the car park steps. There was a horrible, hysterical moment where I groped for it in mid-air, balancing on one three-inch heel and flailing the French basket around to counterbalance the weight of TJ, and then I accepted the inevitable and stood in a puddle with my bare foot.

Et voila.

Yes. But. Look at how nice the shoes are.

(This is only a partial view of the damage – when I took the shoe off, my foot was black.)

So, anyway, these days I wear flats. And I feel frumpy. And I hope you’re happy, stiletto nazis.

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