High Heeled Shoes: High & Not So Mighty

January 30, 2002

High heeled shoes. I’m not talking about your average heel. I’m talking monstrous, teetering spikes that bear closer resemblance to medieval torture implements than to fashion, and have no place in society let alone in a public place!

So where do I start?

Well for irritating starters, women who get about in such fanciful footwear have all the co-ordination of a newborn Bambi on sleeping pills. Have you ever been struck by the overwhelming urge to give the footwear-impaired nightmare hobbling down the stairs in front of you in rush hour a violent shove? You’re not alone!

And if aesthetics are what the wearer is concerned with, then these shoes are way wide of the mark. What the wearer must imagine as dainty, ladylike footsteps are in reality a grotesquely uncoordinated gait that you’d expect from some kind of congenital foot disorder that was not remedied by years of orthopedic footwear.

But wait! There’s more! Wearers of such ludicrous footwear pose an injury risk not only to themselves in the form of throbbing bunions and twisted, mangled or broken ankles, but their slavish, selfish pursuits of fashion render them a walking deathtrap to all unsuspecting members of the public.

Attending an after-show party recently I myself was the victim of what is surely becoming one of the fastest growing crimes in the inner city – the Stiletto Stomp. The perpetrator was a notoriously scantily clad, six-inch spike wearing ‘celeb’, famous for her ever-present pendulous breasts.

To add insult to my already substantial injury, the height of my assailant’s heel was so great as to render her oblivious to the damage inflicted on my unsuspecting foot, so far beneath it. With no sign of an apology (or compensatory drink) in sight, I hobbled off to tend to my wound, (which was incidentally, a nasty puncture mark the size of a five cent piece on the top of my foot.)

So you see the real enemy is not Celine Dion. Or cellulite. It’s stilettos!

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