I’ve always known that certain footwear was dangerous. The most common culprit in my mind is the high heel-pump-stiletto family of shoes. Aside from the usual hazard of balancing on something so precarious as a shoe with a peg under it (although Pirate-amputees seemed to have mastered it), or in the case of a stiletto, (essentially walking on a PENCIL), there is a profound discomfort to be had in the awkward position of the foot, and the disfiguration that takes place as a woman gets older while partaking of this footwear. Have you looked at 50 or 60 year old woman’s foot after she’s worn high heels her whole life? It looks like pointy shoes with skin on it, or like her feet have been stricken with a genetic defect. It is beyond comprehension that a woman will do this to herself, often only to make her legs look attractive for men. Not only is it a health hazard for what it does to one’s knees, but it doesn’t allow a woman to run…and i feel that this is something that women ought to be able to do, for many reasons, which i won’t get into here.
But, regardless, I was convinced that a MAN invented the high heel, and as i Googled it to find out, i discovered that this was true, but they invented them for MEN. It seems they needed a shoe that wouldn’t slip in the stirrups while riding horseback. Then the style became more of a fashion statement for royalty in the 1500’s. Then a female member of royalty adopted the style and women began to wear heels after that. Women discovered that wearing heels made their gate and calves more alluring and sensualized…for the benefit of admiring males.
But even high hells have nothing on the footwear that graces the tootsies of homebodies nation-wide. Nothing is more treacherous than that unassuming pair of footwear that can be found in every household…often they exude comfort, they are the very essence of comfort and repose, but secretly, this footwear is an accident waiting to happen. I speak of the open heeled house slipper. They don’t call it a “slipper” for nothing. Don’t be fooled by the padded faux lambs wool, and the cushiness of its sole. Any number of things can go awry with these hideous houseshoes, these sinister slippers. There is absolutely nothing holding them on your feet except your good intentions. You can be taking a step and one of them will slip off, fold over, and crinkle your toes. They can slide off kilter and make you twist your ankle; it’s even worse if you’re on uneven terrain. Many homes are one-level, and one can scoot along without lifting one’s feet, enjoying the gleeful combination of static electricity and unsuspecting cats, (Here kitty kitty…ZZZZZAP!) but this just lulls you into a false sense of security. For eventually, you will lift a foot and it will all be over. You’ll find yourself stumbling, mashing the cat’s tail, dropping your fresh cup of coffee, banging your head on a railing and cracking every toe-knuckle you have. And squishing your cream cheese bagel into your right ear. It can be even worse than that.
For instance, I am writing this at the foot of my staircase.
I’m going to need a few more minutes before attempting to get up. And when I do, I’m going to put on some sneakers, and use my open-heeled house slippers as cat toys. Maybe they can put their little arms inside them when the basement gets too chilly. Or maybe I’ll put them in my lap and use them for hand warmers, myself. But they will never again go on my feet. Especially not right now, since I can’t bend over without aggravating those seven slipped discs in my back.