The hubby and I are on our way to brunch with his family. We're going to a nice place to eat, so I thought it would be nice to wear high-heeled boots. It has been a while since I've worn heels. I didn't wear heels at all in the last 3 months of my pregnancy, and I don't typically wear heels while on mat-leave, as I'm always running around.
As pretty as they look, I can only tolerate high heels in short spurts. Namely, I'll wear them while at the office (switching into running shoes while I'm in transit), and I'll wear them when I'm going somewhere that's a bit dressier where I KNOW that I won't be doing a lot of walking.
Anyway, my point is that heels have their place and time. I figure that there's no good reason to deform my feet and walk in total discomfort if I can avoid it.
Since today's venue was a bit dressier and we were driving there, I opted to wear my dressy high-heel wine-colored boots (which look fab in dark-wash jeans, BTW). Well, no sooner did I walk out the door than I begin to regret that decision. For one thing, we had a fresh 10-cm coat of snow on our walkway, and the condo people hadn't cleared the snow yet. Fancy high-heel boots are no good if you're falling on your ass while wearing them. Secondly, the minute I stepped in the snow, my socks were immediately soaked. Even though my boots ate made of some sort of plastic, they are somewhat breathable, and therefore let in some water.
So I made an executive decision. I went back home shortly after getting out the door, to change into a nice, sensible pair of faux-fur-lined dark-brown flat boots. My feet are thanking me for my change of heart. I guess it does pay to be practical.
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12 hours ago