High Heel Steppers

 I never talk about fashion and I don't know why. I love clothes. It's what I spend money on. That and music. Recently as in January of 2015, I bought my first pair of wedges.

So, yes I have lived eighteen years without putting my foot in a pair of heels and suddenly this needed to happen. Of course it wasn't that suddenly. I was just thoroughly pissed the fuck off that Boomer was taller then me. I have been friends with him for a solid ten years and this bitch decides to get taller then me Senior year of high school.

 Usually I'm fine being the shorter one. It doesn't bother me, but for eight years I was taller and he wants to be taller then me. Fuck him.

I do my research. I'll need at least three inches. And, I decided I wanted them to be wedges. Not heels. Of course wedges are still heels, but I was set in stone on this point. I order them, because I'm too lazy to go out in public.

 Get them in. Assume I will fall face down on my face and surprise my self by stomping around for a few hours without a misstep. The only trouble is the stairs and with practice, I don't need to clutch the bannister anymore.

Needless to say right around the time I was ordering textbooks, I decided I might as well get another pair. These strappy four inch heel, two inch platforms that I tower over people in.

From there I have moved onto a pair of leopard print wedges, because I'm basic as fuck. I love animal prints. They're tacky and dreadful, but I love it. Unabashedly. I have no shame when it comes to clothes. When everyone else walks in at nine in the morning with sweats on, praise them for their choice of comfort, as you sashay away in high heel steppers.

It has amazed me the number of people who have told me I have inspired them to wear heels. They ask me how do you walk in those? Very carefully.

That is something I will let you in on. My trade secret. People have said to me they could never walk in these heels. That I am graced with poise and beauty. No, bitch. It is practice. The parents would leave and I would throw my shoes on and prance around. Falling up and down.  

Put your turn up music on and have some fun. You'll break the shoes in and have practice. Every heel is different and you need to know how to walk in them. It's like a new car. They don't drive the same.

However, the real secret when you get out in public is just to pretend your Naomi Campbell. You've practiced. You know what you're doing. Believe in yourself. And, if you do fall down, you'll look fierce doing it. Don't be afraid to wear heels if you want to.  

Obviously they are not something you should have on for eighteen hours a day, but I love them. They make me feel confident and attractive. Exactly what fashion is supposed to do. Be hell on heels if you want to be.

When it comes to fashion, find what makes you feel good, and fuck anyone who tries to make you feel inferior. If you think you look good. You do.