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Shoe lust in Toyko, Japan.
I lust for whimsical creations of skinny heels and minute straps; adorned with bows and glitter. I adore a solid power pump, stacked on a platform heel. Miu Miu gives me shivers. The signature red sole of a Christian Louboutin shoe stops me dead in my tracks. I would happily name my first born after Manolo Blahnik in exchange for a few pairs. Jimmy Choo, I love you!
Love. Lust. Completely, utterly captivated. The sight of a towering, strappy, glittering stiletto has the ability to drive me to distraction.
Just like scores of fashionably-dressed, well-heeled urbanite women around the globe, I waste a good percentage of my monthly paycheck on shoes. We form a Sisterhood, not of the Traveling Pants, but of those who are Cursed by the Beloved High Heeled Shoe.
Cursed, you say? Yes, indeed. No other fashion accessory causes so much pain while simultaneously creating instant curves and a whole lotta va-va-voom. My women friends show no rationality when it comes to buying and wearing shoes. We all have heaps of ’em.
Despite having to endure hours of walking with pinched toes, tight calves, aching arches and as ass that feels like its on fire, I know my legs look longer and more slender. My shoulders are automatically thrown back. My ass looks great and my hips sway with a fluid movement that just isn’t attainable in flat footwear. A beautiful shoe has the power to make me feel like a sex-goddess.
To all those high heel admirers, do you know exactly how much pressure is under your foot? You would be surprised! Indeed you ladies wear these shoes for fashion’s sake, but with the immense pressure under a high heel, you may as well use it as a weapon.
For comparison’s sake, would you rather your hand be pummeled by a herd of elephants or a group of angry women wearing high heels? The more logical answer in this case, that is you would rather take your chances on the high heels, is the wrong assumption. Don’t be intimidated by the enormous size of an elephant or fooled by the alluring high heel. The high heel can exert more than 15 times the pressure of an elephant’s foot. Pressure Under High Heels
“But, wait,” you say. “Aren’t you the woman who just wrote about the barbaric practice of Chinese foot binding a few months ago?”
And as my readers are so kind to point out what I already know:
Isn’t the modern woman going down this same path? If the above photo has anything to prove, it’s this: A high heel shoe is torture on your body.
The pursuit of fashionable feet is no stranger to the history books. Women have been enduring torturous footwear for centuries in the name of fashion and beauty.
In China, women’s feet were bound at an early age to have the coveted golden lotus, a delicate three-inch foot sheathed in the most ornate and delicate of slippers.
Today we sheath our tender tootsies in delectably ornamented shoes on a four inch spike.
Both cause foot, leg and back problems, some of which have resulted in permanent condition. The practice in foot-binding in China met its end in the early 1900’s, but the curse of the high heels rages on as women teeter and totter in their quest to be fashionable.
So what exactly is the damaging result of wearing high heels? Multiple problems arise from shortened calf muscles, corns, blisters, bunions, calluses, hammertoes, ingrown toe-nails, ankle damage and knee arthritis to start with.
“The redistribution of weight, and the inherent posture and foot problems associated, affect women’s ability to perform everyday activities. With their feet squeezed and compressed into fashionable shoes, women are unable to walk long distances or for extended periods of time without experiencing discomfort.” (Pretty Shoes,” 2003)
Despite these warnings, there has been no change in the fashion trends in footwear coming down the catwalk. Shoes are still a multi-million dollar industry and will continue to be adored and coveted by women around the world. Despite being more prone to injury while wearing heels, and facing lifelong ramifications, we lovingly curse our footwear as we strut our stuff every time we leave the sanctity of our homes. Why, you ask? You tell me. Don’t we look good?