I’ve never understood this fascination we women supposedly have with shoes. Yes high heel shoes are nice. To look at. Not to wear! Not to bloody wear! It’s like putting your feet in clamps. Sliding ones. And then be expected to walk and dance and laugh and chat to people as well instead of doing what you really want to do which is to take the shoes off and hit them repeatedly with a mallet-like instrument while screaming ‘you stupid stupid things.’
It just kills me when people balancing themselves on stilettos say things like ‘These shoes are so comfy.’ It makes me wonder what they normally wear you know; shoes with razorblades on their insides? Because in that case those scrappy stilettos that are making their feet look all mangled already from the pressure, could very well be super comfy for them.

I’ve started to think about all this because we’re going to a wedding on Friday and I’m dreading having to walk around in high heels all night. Everything else is great. I have a few dresses (that are all comfortable) and a few bags to choose from and I’m going to pray to the God of Hairs not to give me a bad hair day (my hair is at that teenage stage between short and long and lately it has been very unruly). There’s no point in praying to the God of Spots I guess since it has blessed me with two lovely spots already; one on my chin and one (of all places) on my chest. This is so God of Spots; always coming up with new and exciting places to put his creations on just before a big do. Bless, he never lets me down.
So the only thing I have to complain about is my shoes; the instruments of torture. My feet are starting to blister just from being in the same room as them.

I guess it could be worse though; I could be a man. Poor Kamyar has to wear a polyester suit. In this heat! He picked up a cotton one first, one those ones that crease even from being looked at. By the time he came out of the changing room he looked like he was wearing a large dishcloth.
‘I don’t think that’s suitable for a wedding really.’ I said. ‘Why not?’ asked Kamyar disappointedly (he hasn’t been to many weddings) ‘Because people tend to wear the kind of suits to weddings that do not crease so easily.’ I said. What I had really meant to say was ‘Because people tend to wear the kind of suits to weddings that do not make them look like drunken homeless guys.’ But I thought I should go easy on him because he had really liked the suit and was feeling very poorly from hay fever (which had actually contributed very generously to his drunk-homeless look; eyes half shut, mouth half open at all times to breathe in from due to severe nose blockage)
‘Doesn’t anyone wear these kind of suits to a wedding then?’ he said looking at himself in the mirror.
‘I don’t know’ I said, ‘Bob Geldof might.’
‘Oh!’

I must say he looked very dishy in his polyester suit and shirt and tie and all that at the end, Rrrrrrrrr. Any of you ladies try to flirt with him on Friday and my heel just might accidentally land on some of your mangled toes, ouch.