Not so high now, please

Nowadays, my compulsion to wear 3-inch heels has definitely mellowed. Call it growing old (cringe) if you will, but I seem to be realizing what a welcome respite comfort is, versus the second-by-second effort (the intensity varies, dependent on heel height/width) one needs to exert and all the balancing and pretending-to-be-completely-nonchalant-even-when-one's-feet-are-turning-blue thing when one is walking, or simply standing, in heels. It might even be the wearing away of the self-consciousness one experiences when the need to fit in (with the tall crowd? hahaha) dwindles away as one's self-confidence shoots up, that je m'en fiche! attitude one acquires after an epiphany of some sort happens, which has something to do with the acceptance of things, in general, and of one's real image/being, in particular.


So, I'm small, ehem, petite. So, sue me. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, that almost instinctive election of form over function begins to make less and less sense, until it reaches a point where its logic altogether disappears. I haven't reached that point yet (I would still never wear shoes or sandals that are totally flat--give me an inch and a half, at least), and I cannot be entirely sure if I'll ever get there, but things almost always change, and who knows perhaps I'll get there, someday (not that I'm wishing for it). After all, we are as tall as we feel. And, as far as I'm concerned, I've been feeling 5'9" high, recently.
=D