minalisms

My feet told me today that I am an old woman. Actually, considering the suffering they endured, my feet screamed that I am an old woman, a dumb old woman who thinks she can still get away with wearing pointy-toe stiletto pumps to work.

I have a closet full of beautiful, colorful, fun heels. A majority of them are dusty and depressed — I’ve neglected them since moving to St. Louis about two years ago. Each time I opened my closet and saw them neatly lined along the shelves, I thought about being younger, and thinner. At least thin enough to have never felt the anguish of today, as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, attempting to allow some sort of reprieve for my tired toes and soles.

It hardly worked.

I had two thoughts consume me all day: 

I’m going to die.” and,
“Thank god flats are in fashion.”