Dear High Heels…We need to have “the talk.” It has come to a point in our relationship where we have outgrown each other. It is mostly my fault. Marriage, age and having kids has given me an entirely different perspective and you only bring me pain.
Dear High Heels,
We need to have “the talk.” It has come to a point in our relationship where we have outgrown each other. It is mostly my fault. I just don’t give you the time I use to and, over the years, my life has changed significantly. We have been together for a long time and I have loved you dearly but I think it’s time we go our separate ways.
Our friendship started around my teen years when
my mother reluctantly gave me permission to wear heels. I will never forget the day I walked into the department store and purchased that first pair of high-heeled boots. The minute I put you on I knew I had found my match and we have been strutting together ever since. I started with chunky heeled boots or sandals and then I discovered stilettos and there was no going back. I just couldn’t get enough of you. We stuck together through every season change and new style from gold strappy stilettos to purple suede pumps. Our friendship grew stronger with every purchase until we were practically inseparable. You managed to talk me into a lot of not-so-smart decisions (like those red patent leather, snake print f@#!-me pumps…the ones that hurt like a b!+@$) but I have no regrets.
Remember all those wonderful years we spent gallivanting around New York City. I have so many fond memories of us strutting down subway platforms and dancing the night away at salsa clubs. We were together all the time and we were quite the pair… your gorgeous lines and my long dancer legs… It was a sight to see if I may say so myself. You even helped me catch my husband’s eye. Me in that pencil skirt and you with the black leather, knee high stiletto boots… He couldn’t resist. I know I didn’t invite you to the wedding and I am sorry if that hurt you but my needs trumped yours on that day. I am pretty sure that was the beginning of the end.
Since then, things have slowly changed for both of us and, unfortunately, our lives just don’t fit together anymore. I have tried to make it work over the last couple of years because I have invested so much in this relationship and I just couldn’t bring myself to walk away. You don’t seem to understand how much my lifestyle has changed.
I need shoes with versatility and flexibility but that’s just not who you are and I have to accept that. Marriage, age and having kids has given me an entirely different perspective. You want to go out and party all night and I rather spend the night eating pizza and watching movies with my family. And frankly my swelling feet, aching back and uncooperative knees just can’t handle it any more (No I am not pointing the finger at you…I put the blame on my kids for all of those).
From time to time, I slip you on in hopes that we can spend just an evening together but not 30 minutes into the night you always start rubbing me the wrong way. It didn’t use to be that way. It has been hard to bring myself to this point but you only bring me pain and I just don’t have the patience to power through the hurt any more for the sake of our friendship.
I know you aren’t happy with me either. As I have moved on with my life, you have patiently waited for me in dusty boxes in the bottom of my closet. You don’t deserve that. It’s no excuse but I just haven’t been able to let you go and that’s not fair. It truly breaks my heart but I know I need to let you move on so that you can find someone that is a better fit for you and will love you just as I have. I hope you know how much I will miss you and how much this truly breaks my heart. I really do want to remain friends and maybe even visit each other every once in a while, even if only for a short time.
Elisha Beach is a stay-at-home mom to four kids and four step-kids…Yes, you read that right—eight kids. She is a wife, home cook, taxi driver, herder of children, terrible housekeeper and founder of The Mom Forum.
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