A mile in someone else's heels

We have issues with our feet. We are constantly on them, we take long walks like characters in Jane Austen novels, we pace up and down the room while writing. But for many years we kept them hidden away, like a brilliant mistress with a murderous streak. We thought they were ugly.

 Years of wearing hideous ill-fitting patent leather school shoes had deformed the little toes and darkened their nails. Since we could not bear to look at them, we chose not to inflict them on the innocent public.

 Then one day out of sheer boredom we allowed our gay friend Raymond to drag us to a beauty parlor for a pedicure. As we slid off our sneakers, we warned the pedicurist about the vomitrocious sight she was about to behold. . .

 “Ay, parang kamay,” she said. Apparently decades of wearing only sneakers and clunky boots had kept our feet protected from the elements and they had the soft texture of children’s hands.

 So we became quite vain about our feet. We are still partial to brogues and Doc Martens, but we have taken to wearing girly shoes. (As a bonus it freaks people out.) And when you acknowledge the existence of your feet after many years, the next step is heels.

 Last year, during the holidays, we were waiting for a friend at Adora and passed the time by trying on shoes. Except for a brief period in our teens when we tried to pass for normal, we had never worn high heels. (Platform sneakers don’t count.) We like comfort too much. Also we are exceedingly clumsy and will trip over furniture...from across the room.

 But the shoes were so pretty and one is still a girl even if she has a broadsword at home. We’ve always regarded high-heeled shoes as instruments of torture, but these ones actually seemed comfortable. They were engineered so that when one walked in them the weight was properly distributed and there was little danger of keeling over. Did we mention that they were so pretty?

 In order to maintain our mental health we should strive to utilize all the parts of our brain by learning new skills. This promotes dendrite arborization and heads off degenerative dementia. We decided that walking in high heels was one such skill.

 One of the pleasures of shopping, particularly shoe-shopping, is coming up with shiny new rationalizations.

 While we were test-walking the high-heeled shoes Adora’s operations director Techie Bilbao noticed our very obvious lack of confidence (We were hugging the wall) and offered her services as walking-in-heels coach. First, bend your knees (as one should in shoes of any height). A stiff, straight-legged gait will make your legs cramp. Second, lift your thighs when you take steps. This helps you keep your balance and impels you forward.

 Fine, we bought the high-heeled shoes. Three-inch wedges, so the change would not be as traumatic as, say, four-inch stiletto mules. Still overriding one’s habits takes some doing, and it was another week before we took the wedges out for a walk.

 We did not expect it to be an anthropological study along the lines of Gorillas In The Mist (Although the silver-backed gorillas are so much more graceful than this subject).

 Our initial findings:

 Obviously wearing heels makes you taller, but it also forces you to pay attention to your posture. If you want to be comfortable in high heels, you have to listen to your mother’s (or drill sergeant’s, or maybe it’s just schizophrenia) voice in your head: “Stomach in, chest out, shoulders back, butt out.”

 Ignore the voice/s and you get a backache and leg cramps.

 Good posture makes you more elegant and aerodynamic. Also, walking around like this gives you the urge to toss your hair and laugh archly, as if you were at a cocktail party and you have just spotted your miserable ex with noticeable male pattern baldness.

 No wonder femmes fatales (and the kings of France before they were divested of their heads) wear heels high enough to cause vertigo. High heels change your perspective, literally. Being able to see the tops of people’s heads gives you new confidence (and if you did not lack for confidence to begin with, elevates it into megalomania). You feel that you are equal (or superior) to anyone.

 Also, if you should accidentally-on-purpose walk into someone you are not fond of, you can quote Bambi Arambulo in the original Temptation Island and say, “Sorry, hindi kita napansin. Dahil siguro sa aking towering height.”

 No matter how brilliantly-engineered the high-heeled shoes, after some time in them your feet will hurt. When your feet are in pain, the tendency is to forget your Grace Kelly posture impression and start slouching. Do not give in!

 This is why those cute girly girls who run around in six-inch Stella Luna killer stilettoes have boyfriends. When they feel tired from traipsing around in heels, they can hang on their boyfriend’s arm or drape themselves around their boyfriend’s shoulders.

 It’s supposed to make the boyfriend feel manly and protective, but the real point is to take the load off your suffering feet. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.

 Conclusion: Walking in high heels is a behavior-altering experience. This will require more research. Translation: We’re buying more shoes.