Though I can dominate in mid heights with my eyes shut, the lure of a balls out high heel causes me to catch my breath just as much as any other girl and then begins the internal dialogue about how this will all play out.
I fell for the leather gloved effect of these slingbacks [which have a rather emphatic nod to the original Balenciaga] and against all my knowledge of the self and of footwear I went straight for the home run. As I stood in front of the mirror, motionless and unstable, I let the high cut front fool me into thinking they were a comfy, supportive boot and minutes later they were swinging in a ribbon handled bag, banging against my sturdy calves.
The compliments I get when wearing them distract from the pain of throbbing balls until I've been tottering around for an hour or so.
And then I require a human nearby to stabilize on and weight shift from foot to foot.
Then I progress to the accelerate/decelerate heel manoeuvre to relieve the strain in my calves.
To be honest, I almost die every time I wear them and obviously need more practise at this fancy shit.
Or that procedure where they inject dermal filler under the ball of your foot [ewww].
My feets were so sore.
I should've just worn the Chucks.
|wearing: Old sheer shirt, Lonely Lingerie bralette, Moochi trouser, Kookai heels, The Warehouse beanie and Le Specs eyewear.|