Monday, August 3rd, 2009
I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here (excuse the pun).
I was ridiculously excited when I brought you home and introduced you to the rest of my shoes. They were a little jealous, but they’re always like that.
I didn’t even have an outfit to wear you with. That’s how committed I was to you. You were the catalyst for me traipsing the streets for some new threads that would do you justice.
In preparation for your big debut, I wore you around the house, in just my underwear. I may have looked a fool, but it was just me and you and I knew you could keep the secret. You felt so good on my carpeted floor.
And then the dress rehearsal was over and it was time for your big show. You looked so good. As I strutted down the street, I got many an envious stare. But barely an hour into our outing, you were crippling me. The balls of my feet were burning, screaming to be released from your deathly grip. But to take you off part way through an evening? You know that’s not me. I will not be defeated. I will not!
So, I kept you on as I tried to groove to the smooth sounds of reggae. Well, you killed that, thanks. Why’d you have to go and ruin a good time? I’ve done nothing but treat you good.
Is it because it took me so long to decide on you? I know I was a bit of a shoe whore the day I bought you. I tried on damn near every other shoe in the store before I got to you. Truthfully (and I know you know I’d never admit this in public), I was a little intimidated by your height. When I tried you on, someone came up to me and offered me an NBA contract. I’m already 5’9″, I don’t really need 5 extra inches. But you were like a beacon of light at the end of a long, shoddy shoe tunnel. Once I had you on my feet, I knew there was no turning back.
Even after that bad first experience, I brought you out for round two, this time with a padded insole for reinforcements. But apparently, you’re still feeling a little scorned, because your pain managed to break right through that. I was almost asking people for piggy backs to bring my feet some relief.
We’ve gotten off to a rocky start, but I won’t give up on you just yet. We just need to find our stride. Either that, or you really are just a shoe that one can only sit down in. Maybe I need to wait until I’m 80 and wheelchair bound to wear you?
The next time I put you on, please be little havens of cushiony goodness.
Yours in high heeled-ness,
Muireann
Tags: pain, shoes
Posted in fashion | 5 Comments »
Thursday, July 17th, 2008
A few weeks ago, I wrote my life list.
So, I figured, I better get cracking on some of this stuff.
This week’s challenge was number ten on my list: Get back into dance and perform.
I’m not quite at the performance stage just yet, but I took my first jazz class in over 3 years and frankly, I rocked it.
I was a little apprehensive as I stepped into the large studio space into a room full of serious looking leotard-donned people (I opted for the track pants/tank top casual dance ensemble). I sat down and did some random stretches, hoping the basic warm-up techniques would come back to me.
The teacher arrived and did the first half of the warm up on the floor. I stretched and got loose to the sounds of Janet Jackson and followed along quite nicely. The second half of the warm up was a whole bunch of ballet, which caught me off guard. I tried to blend in, but most likely looked like someone who just got off the ‘special bus’.
Then came the ‘routine’ portion of the class. Mid way through, I needed CPR, but I battled through to the end. And as my toes pointed and my arms stretched and my body twisted, turned and leaped, I realised, I’ve missed this. So much. I wanted the beat to keep playing and my body to just keep moving.
I left sweaty, tired and blissfully happy.
Then came the next day. I woke up with that satisfied feeling, you know the one, where your body feels a little fatigued because you put it through its paces. The bike ride to work wasn’t too bad. Over the course of the day, I noticed that when I’d get up from my desk, my legs weren’t cooperating with the program with their usual ease. The pace of my walk slowed down somewhat and a dull ache spread throughout my entire body, to the point that lifting my pen felt like championship weightlifting.
As you’ve probably guessed, the bike ride home was not pretty. Come home time, my legs were in full on failure. The pedals on Clooney felt like giant rocks that I was trying to push up hill. ‘Are those….muscles?’ I asked myself, looking down at my shaky legs as they attempted to get me home. The harder I tried to pedal, the more I appeared to be going in slow motion. I had to stop midway up a hill and wave the cars around me as I caught my breath (and it wasn’t even really a hill, more of a ‘slight incline’, I just thought ‘hill’ would make it sound better).
As I sit here now, I’m not sure if I’ll ever regain full use of my legs, my right shoulder and I think I have sustained permanent damage to my pinky toe, but I can’t wait for next week’s class.
Bring it bitches, bring it all on!
Tags: bikes, Clooney., dancing, pain
Posted in life | 3 Comments »