I’m not exactly certain how it happened but over the last several years, I’ve somehow become a shoe girl. At work, among the dance moms, at church – people remember my shoes. They are usually many inches high and often memorable. It’s to the point now that I feel a certain pressure every time I set heel into a department store to go bigger, better, taller, more sparkli-er and more gorgeous-er. I don’t want anyone to take my title. But no queen reins forever. As my clock clicks nearer to 40 and my knees grow achy with each elevated step, I may have to make the move to – gasp! – flats. It just doesn’t seem fair, really – that I discovered the joys of shoehood so late.
Well, I guess I can always switch over to handbags.
dianderthal 