Four Band-Aids. My weekend getaway involving a friend’s wedding ended up with four Band-Aids and sore feet.
I’m not much of a dress and high-heel wearer. But it was a special occasion so I showed up in full chick attire, and my feet paid for it in the end. I didn’t even make it to the reception with my black strappy cha-cha heels. I wore them for about an hour and a half and that’s all they needed to make their mark. And in truth there wasn’t much walking going on at the church, but the standing, sitting, and standing routine in addition to waiting outside in order to give the bride a hug was enough to torture my feet to break the skin.
I didn’t see anyone else in pain. All I saw was smiles and stylish opened-toed shoes with nicely painted toenails in bright peaches, reds and pinks. I saw no wincing and no discomfort on anyone’s face, so I did my best to pretend that I was stylishly comfortable too. But I couldn’t take it. I asked my carpool friend if she was ready to go and I was so grateful when she said yes. I wobbled over to her car, sat in the back seat, and took my shoes off. Yeah … I saw the damage right away. Two scraped toes and blister on the back of my heel already bleeding.
My feet were pretty angry with me.
How could I do this to them … again? Yeah again, could you believe it?
The last time I wore these shoes, they didn’t do as much damage because I had decided to wear nylons. But I was still in pain. However for some reason I thought that shoes sitting in a shoe box would magically make them pain-free. But shoeboxes are not magic. I guess wearing nylons would have helped minimize the abuse, but apparently the nylons didn’t make it into the suitcase. I know nylons are so not cool for a night out on the town or fancy shin-dig wedding, and they should only remain with business suits and skirts, but when it comes to heels, comfort is always my thing. And it was so unfortunate that it didn’t work out that way for me. I couldn’t even stop by a store to buy some, because the traffic was so disastrous. So I had to battle the high heels on my own.
I lost. Four Band-Aids in one hour. I lost big time, and the party hadn’t even started. At least I had a two-hour window to give my aching feet some rest.
But then come around six o’clock I’d have to undergo a high-heel marathon until Midnight. An arduous event that included dancing. And not just regular dancing, this was dancing that involved cumbias — hip shaking like washing machine cumbias. So I knew I had to do something drastic. The fruity drinks I was having weren’t helping forget about the pain, so I did what any self-respecting New Balance wearer would do. I took them off and went barefoot.
The relief. The awesome relief. My ankles and the backs of my heels were thanking me, although they were still calling me stupid, they thanked me anyway.
And as the night progressed I realized I wasn’t the only New Balance wearer to rid herself of the blister-causers. A few us out there on the dance floor were tapping a bare naked feet to the rhythms of our Latin music. One of the girls even thought ahead and brought black socks to wear. Visionary. A total forward thinker. I would have never thought to bring a pair. Perhaps I’m not as smart as I think I am. My feet sure didn’t think so.
But nevertheless the night went on, the after-party continued, and the laughs kept coming. And even though I didn’t plan or think ahead, I was glad I thought of one good thing. I made one good decision that day. The card. I was proud of it … my card. Every wedding is different and you have to find the right card for the couple — the one that shares your vision of the journey they will embark on and what is to be gained of this joyous union.
The best idea I had all weekend
.
The Wish Factor 