Heels have always been subject to fashion. They’ve been high, they’ve been low, they’ve been flat, wedged, kitten-ed and now: supersized. Of the many things that have eluded me (Furbies? What were we thinking?), this is one of them. Suffering from osteoarthritis, sciatica, hammertoe and Haglund’s deformity hardly qualifies as my idea of fun. So why? Why do we fall for the pretty shoe with the killer heel?

As always, scientists have the answer. There’s the standard “taller girls equals better breeding” theory, which claims that taller women are most appealing to the opposite sex. Then, there’s the “long legs equal good breeding potential” idea. And of course, the perfectly reasonable explanation that girls are simply trying to bridge the girl-guy height gap. While it’s true killer heels (and by that I mean cute and high) can boost confidence and attract the boys, they’re named killer for a reason.

I’ve already mentioned some of the conditions associated with long term heel abuse, and there’s more bad news to come: It’s irreversible. And progressive. So, as you get older, it gets worse. And worse. And while I love my shoes (girl-shoes, shoes-gir – like that’s a hard relationship to understand), I’d choose perfectly fine feet every time.

However, labels like Jimmy Choo and Gucci don’t seem to agree with me. Jimmy Choo’s website even considers a low heel as less than 2.5 inches and a high heel anything over 3.5, which makes me wonder: HOW DOES ANYBODY WALK IN THEM? And how can we trust a man – who never has to walk in our shoes, literally – to dictate what we will wear? These designers set the standard for fashion, so they are doing us all a disservice by designing stilletos that look like this.

Shoes need to shrink. Fast. The majority of shoes gracing shop shelves today are shoes on steroids. It shouldn’t be so hard to find shoes that are comfortable, cute and non-foot wrecking, but it is! We need to start a revolution for lower heels, or more comfortable options.

Our feet and health are at stake.

Girl meets boy, girl likes boy, girl’s like is clearly unrequited. Friend hates boy, friend grows to like boy, friend and boy go out.

And boy, did the stinky brown substance hit the fan.

Rudge from The History Boys defined history as, “one f*%king thing after another.” This can also be applied to the demise of this relationship. One argument turned into some petty fight. Over a boy. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but back then, when they had a bust up, to a girl like me who’d always held the Hoes over Bros rule golden, this was sacrilege.

No, there are no happy endings, and no, they never made up. Yes, I am bitter and disillusioned, and yes, this is exactly why I don’t believe in hoes over bros anymore.

On Gossip Girl, Serena did the unforgiveable and slept with her best friend’s boyfriend. And sure, her best friend was angry and wanted revenge, but ultimately, she took her back. On One Tree Hill, Peyton nabbed Lucas’s heart, while her betrayed best friend, Brooke, was hurt. The scenario with my two friends, certainly didn’t end up like this. Three years of friendship and somehow a boy was still more important.

Hoes over bros is a nice thought. Really. But, you and I live in the real world. The one where sometimes people do what they like regardless of the consequences, and sometimes, where people take unreasonable stances.

Sure, it’s easy to say that you’ll never end up feeling the slightest bit of attraction to your friend’s boyfriend, but again… real life. It likes screwing with us. I mean, I’ve heard of situations where best friends and boyfriends grow close, and it’s only natural that if and when the friend and boyfriend break up the best friend would want to hold onto their friendship.

After all, they’re close.

And sometimes, that can lead to more.

If that is what they want to do, fine; but this is one of those instances where you can’t have your cake and eat it too. You want the boy? You gotta get rid of the girl.

I have never heard of a situation where the friend has been happy for the other two in the love triangle. I mean, fake enthusiasm for a canoodling couple can only be faked up until a certain point. Just watch My Best Friend’s Wedding. The person will avoid the happy couple, until the couple sort of moves on and does couply things. If interaction happens, the scorned friend will put on a smile and pretend. But even though everything seems fine on the surface, the friendship is changed. And on its way to being over.

There was this TV show (God, I watch a lot of TV) ages ago, and someone said something like, “Ultimately, I’m selfish, because I care more about me than I do about you.” Apart from thinking, “What a jerk!”, I thought that he was onto something. How much would you be willing to give up for friendship?

Love or friendship? Ho or bro? That is the question…and you must choose one.

When I stumbled over this recipe, I fell off my chair. No, really. I have the bruises to show for it.

I don’t know about any of you, but I LOVE sushi (hard to tell, huh?). And, if you’re put off by visions of raw fish, don’t be! This is one recipe that won’t have ANYONE feeling squeamish. Unless you’re scared of scrummy food. Seriously. This is that good. And as a bonus (or not!) it won’t send you into a sugar induced coma like some other dessert sushi’s out there.

And if you’re still not convinced why you should make/convince someone else (Mom!) to make this sushi for you, well, then, let me change your mind.

In my adapted version, the ‘rice’ is made up of cashew nuts, honey and butter. Cashew nuts provide a good source of protein and fiber, and is also a good source of nutrients and minerals. On top of that, they also help maintain good cholesterol levels, protecting your heart. Sound good so far? Well, it gets better. Honey is rich in antioxidants (here’s a tip: the darker the honey is, the richer in antioxidants) and obviously, because of the fruit on top, there’s more good stuff!

The wasabi on the sashimi? (God, that’s bad.) This is super easy, and looks like you spent hours slaving away, when really, all it takes is about ten minutes.

Fruit Sushi (A.K.A. Fruishi)What You Need:

1/2 cup cashews (preferably roasted and unsalted)

1/2 tbsp honey

1/2 tbsp butter

Fruit of your choice to put on top

What To Do:

Step 1: Place ingredients (except the fruit) in a bag. Smash with a rolling pin until rice-like (think the consistency of big-ish breadcrumbs) Make sure the butter and honey are well mixed with the cashews.

Step 2: Press well into sushi molds, or ice cube trays.

Word to the wise: if you don’t make it as compact as possible, it’ll fall apart. Really press that stuff in there.

Step 3: Place in the freezer to set and firm up (20-30mins). Remove and garnish.

Garnishing Options: Any fruit. No, I mean it. Kiwi goes really well, as does strawberry, blackberry, banana, mango…it’s endless!

And there it is!

Enjoy!

You can even make a dipping sauce (see the website I found the original recipe on). Just watch out for the strange chopstick wielding pests. Grrr…

“Sure!” (Insert a little drooling)

And then the worrying begins.

I know, I know, grabbing coffee is totally innocent. Yada yada. But, years of motherly concern, “What time are you going to be back?”, “Be careful when you drink”, have been totally ingrained into my thinking. I mean, I’ve been on the streets at two at night. Alone. In some of the roughest parts of London (yes, I’m a Brit), but those worries don’t stop flying around my head. No matter what.

Okay, so being alone at 2 AM, not exactly the wisest decision, but hey, it had to happen at some point. In big cities like London, being street smart is a must. And I, blessed with other things (none of which I can think of right now) was not given street smarts. Luckily, the guy I met for coffee didn’t turn out to be an axe murderer. Or a serial rapist. Or even a weirdo (believe me; I know a lot of them). He was actually a really nice guy. A nice, hot, French guy. Yum (No, I didn’t get his number, and yes, I am still kicking myself).

So I didn’t meet my demise that night. BUT, and here’s the big question…was my initial paranoia valid? With all the news reports of muggings, attacks and knife crimes etc. on the rise, can you ever be too careful?

Probably not. Hot guys can be murderers too, you know (actually, it helps if they’re hot…What?! It’s true!). So, here’s a tip, right off the streets of Bangalore (possibly the least safe city for woman in the world, according to The Times of India) pepper spray. And a big bag.

So, tell me what you think. When does worrying become an unfounded paranoia? And what are your tips for staying safe?