“A cause may be inconvenient, but it’s magnificent. It’s like champagne or high heels, and one must be prepared to suffer for it” -Arnold Bennett
Every woman knows how to play the TGIF transformation game. It’s the makeover from office maven to the evening’s leading lady on any given Friday, pulled off with a quick switch of shoes and makeup. Add an outfit change to the mix, and voila! You’re ready to hit the road.
TGIF happened to fall on a Thursday last week as I was determined to get a headstart on a weekend of socializing for my ex’s engagement party for the weekend—the party that I somehow volunteered to arrange after being invited by his new love, and, my ex- best friend.
Apparently this was a match meant to be, and I was one of the last on the planet to see it (insert forehead slap here). The lovebirds broke the news to me over drinks the week prior. This led immediately to too many Tia Maria shots, and my somehow earning the title of wedding planner godmother.
Clearly, the event was begging for an over-the-top entrance, and so I picked some Dior Banana Heel just for the occasion; classy, refined, ready to take on the world with 4.75” heels, and just enough skinny straps to hold it all together.
With my office on the fourteenth floor, the end of the day required a quick trip to the ladies room for my work-to-play transformation. Squeezing into an elevator of suits is much more fun when shoes like these take center stage. Ignoring the whispers and quick glances that suggest ‘how can you balance on those things?!,’ I’m that much more assured that my 5 a.m. calf workouts and extra yoga stretches were worth every moment of anguish.
The feat of 4.75” heel-wearing requires preparation, that’s all. You wouldn’t squeeze into a pair of skinny jeans without sculpting those thighs beyond Somersville, as you wouldn’t sport a miniskirt without a week’s worth of Stairmaster conquests under your belt.
Lunge, stretch, breathe, stretch again, repeat—each successful step is one step closer to entering the gates of high heel heaven. Learning the art of balance—with the help of skinny heels—is a lady’s divine right. You learn to stride with distinction, to hold your head up high with pride, and stand tall above the competition—in my case, my ex’s new love needed to envy me at my best. Preparation unlocks the door to opportunity I say, a chance to really, truly, stand apart from the rest.
And so I teeter off to the venue, ready to mingle and chit-chat with the couple-to-be, ready to show them I could stand alone and couldn’t care less how this couple happened-to-be, until — my right calf gets a cramp.
I collapse, puppet-without-a-master style, in a neat little heap of heels and disheveled hair, right in front of the cab door that’s delivering the happy couple to the soiree.
“Are you okay?” ask their sweet, concerned voices.
“Just stretching my legs, that’s all!” I assure them, beaming as if this is the only normal thing to do when you find yourself enjoying the ‘pavement view’. I proceed to massage my poor leg back to life—ignoring my ex’s helpful hand to get me up off the floor—and balance myself up and away, off to the party in good form.
I knew those workouts would pay off. All I need now is a shot of Tia Maria.