I’m Torn: High Heels

"Just five more steps. Just five more steps...."

I would put money on it that every college girl has at least one pair of high heels stuffed into their tiny dorm room closet (or if you’re like me, you have 12 and they are strewn all over your floor where you kicked them off after a long and painful night). They are pretty much a staple of every woman’s wardrobe, especially us college girls who need to look sexy every weekend (isn’t college life so demanding?).

Of course heels are an integral part to every party outfit, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t come with some sacrifices. And while I feel hot when I first slip into those bad boys, halfway through the night (or immediately after I step outside the door) I am seriously rethinking my shoe choice/contemplating using the pointy heel to saw off my baby toes to ease the pain/looking for someone to give me a piggy back ride home.

I love them so much, but I loathe them just the same.
It pretty obvious: I’m torn.

Love Them
Honestly what is hotter than a pair of amazing heels? They instantly take a dress or a pair of jeans from drab to glam, and they send your confidence skyrocketing through the roof of the frat house. Who doesn’t add a little extra sway to their hips when they walk down the street in a pair of metallic gladiator heels? That guy you’ve been giving sex eyes to in class won’t be able to stop sending them right back when you click into the party in those skyscrapers.

Plus, they make your calves look freakin’ amazing. And let’s be honest, a lot of bars and clubs would close that velvet rope faster than you could say “hello, I need a shot” if you showed up in a pair of flats. Yeah they are comfy and much more trendy than ever before, but they’re flats! They just aren’t sexy nightlife attire.

Loathe them
Isn’t it obvious? Those bitches hurt. After about an hour my pinkie toes start to scream. Then I get cramps in my legs. And then I spend the rest of the night switching from foot to foot in attempts to give each one a little break from the pain. And let me tell you: you can’t possibly be on top of your pong game when you are teetering 5 inches above the ground and can’t think of anything but the blister forming on the backs of your heels.

And if that’s not bad enough, the walk home is pure hell, each step feeling like someone is shoving a knife up through my heel. I am reduced to that hobbling, walking-on-coals-while-I-have-something-up-my-ass walk. It’s not pretty. When I slip out of the heels as I stumble in at 4 am (If I haven’t already muttered “screw this” and kicked them off in the stairway), it feels like I am still walking in them….for the next 3 days. The arch of my foot aches, paralyzed in it’s 4 inch stretch, not to mention the Charley Horses that visit my calves and jolt me screaming out of my sleep. And the blisters? Disgusting.

All that pain can’t possibly be good for the future of my feet and I’m starting to wonder if a pretty shoe is worth a really ugly foot down the road.

What do you guys think? Is Saturday night sexiness, worth a week of pain and recovery?

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