I have the lovely and talented Anne Bardsley, author of How I Earned My Wrinkles, guesting on my site again today with a story that many of us females can relate to when it comes to our attempts at looking sexy. Most women I know covet good looking shoes, and probably own at least fifty pairs. When I was younger, I had no problem sporting some flashy stilettos when I hit the night clubs. But nowadays, I'm much happier in a pair of fuzzy slippers. Sadly, my floppy-eared bunny slippers are not acceptable at my favorite dining spots, so I have to strap on a pair of heels and wobble my way into the restaurant. Anne, however, braved it one night in a sexy pair of VERY high heeled shoes. God bless the woman---she has more courage (and stamina) than I do! I hope you enjoy her story, and please welcome her to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!
My Blue Suede Heels
My husband is a connoisseur of
women’s feet. He notices women’s shoes. We live in Florida where
flip flops are considered formal wear. There is a never ending supply
of amusement for him here. He likes high sexy heels on women
(obviously). We’ll be at a restaurant and he’ll say, “Anne,
check out her heels. You should get a pair of them.” I am five foot
seven and I wear a size ten shoe. Sexy heels make me feel like
Goliatha and Scott is David. I tower over my husband. He doesn’t
care. He’s looking at my feet!
Since we’re empty nesters, I
decided I should spice things up a bit. I went shopping for sexy,
six- inch heels. When I tried them on, I had to lean on the
saleswoman to stand. I couldn’t walk without assistance. It’s a
strange angle when you’re six inches higher from the rear. My head
stuck out at a strange angle. I looked like an angry, wild bird on a
hunt. I felt like my outstretched head was leading my body and it
wasn’t good. I was following myself! I bought the beautiful blue
suede, six inch, heels anyway and proudly left the store feeling like
a big sex kitten…with very pointy feet.
My husband wasn’t home yet so I
prepared for his arrival. I put on a short skirt and sat in the chair
with a drink at my side. I bounced my legs to show off my sexy heels.
They looked so amazing. When he walked in the door he nearly fainted.
“Surprise!” I yelled, laughing. I modeled the shoes from my
chair, bouncing my legs.
“Let’s see you walk,” he
suggested, as he smiled at me. I think he licked his lips too.
This was not a good idea. I was
dreading the walk part. I sipped my drink and rose out of the chair
at that strange angle. I leaned my head into my walk and looked like
a mad ostrich on a hunt. I took three steps, swishing my hips as I
pranced down my imaginary runway. Then I lost control. I couldn’t
stop myself. I ended up in the kitchen braced by the counter. I
literally ran through the living room like a runaway train, trying to
stay upright.
“Where’d you go?” he yelled.
“Come back so I can see you better.” I did my ostrich prance back
towards the living room. I was six foot one in these heels and I was
rolling. This was not a sexy dance, believe me. He finally got up and
walked in front of me. I put my hands on his shoulders and he led me
to the chair.
“Well let’s see them sitting down
again,” he said. “You’ll have to practice walking in them.”
“I think these will be my sitting
heels. I’ll get seated and you just serve me drinks.” This seemed
like the best possible idea to prevent injuries.
“This is just not sexy,” I moaned.
‘Maybe I’m more the orthopedic shoe type.” I was sad, very sad.
My playful sex kitten has turned into an old, ragged Tabby.
“Oh stop!” He interrupted my pity
party.
“Let’s go dancing!” he shrieked.
Before I know it were in the car. Next we were on the dance floor. We
were in each other’s arms like young lovers. No one knew he was
actually keeping me vertical. One loose step and I’d be off doing
my ostrich dance and take out the entire band. Just the thought of it
made me hold Scott tighter. We looked like honeymooners. A few older
couples smiled at us. The top of his head came just below my chin. I
kissed the top of his head tenderly. It was so romantic! Maybe my
blue suede heels did have a place in my future after all.
“We could get you a helmet and
knee pads to practice walking,” he whispered as we swayed to a slow
dance. Or we can always use Pop’s walker and I can watch you walk
from behind.” I stopped kissing his head at that moment and tried
to bite him.
The vision of me wearing a hockey
helmet, knee pads and a pushing walker in sexy, blue heels just
deflated my playful plans. Fortunately, the walker had no slip tips
to keep me upright. The most exciting news was it had place to hold
my drink. After a few gulps of wine, I felt like a purring vixen
again.
