Heels In Time

Heels In Time
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I went outside so I could get the full experience of feeling like a stylish lady.

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After borrowing my sister's shiny, elegant shoes, I discovered they're not worth the pain.
I was around 12 years old when I first noticed women wearing elegant-looking high heels. I thought maybe I should try to wear them myself. My older sister had a pretty, shiny, black pair with heels that were four inches high. I thought, “Maybe it’s easy to walk in them.”
My mom was in the kitchen cooking and nobody else was home so I was able to take the shoes without being asked any questions. I put them on while sitting on the living room sofa. Then came the time to test them by standing up and walking around. I went outside so I could get the full experience of feeling like a stylish lady.
For the first few minutes walking went smoothly, like the shoes were made for me. The street was empty because of the cold weather. The wind wasn’t as harsh as it had been a few days before, making it easier for me to walk. Thank goodness the area near our house had sidewalks without many cracks because that would have been a big hurdle.
Then suddenly my toes started to hurt. Then they felt numb and I was having trouble walking. Then I fell on the pavement. I fell right on my knees and in order to stop myself from falling on my face, I stretched my hands out and they hit the sidewalk hard. Now both my feet and my hands hurt. I sat on the sidewalk looking at the heels and realized both of them were broken. I imagined my sister trying to kill me.
There was no one on the sidewalk besides an old lady who looked at me with a warning expression like, “What were you thinking? What a terrible idea!” I had to get back to my third-floor apartment, and of course today of all days the elevator wasn’t working. I picked myself back up and started walking the three blocks to the building. I was limping and hunched over and I felt like I looked so small. After every step I thought I was going to fall because the left heel had shifted from its place and I was completely off balance.
My toes were hurting and there were so many stairs to climb. I wanted to take the heels off, but the stairs were too dirty. I made it up to my apartment, but for the next few days my feet still hurt and I had blisters on every toe.
A day or two after the incident when I came home from school my sister was sitting in the living room holding the heels. I tried to sneak into the bedroom unnoticed, but my sister stopped me and said “Don’t. Even. Try.” I froze. She held the heels up and asked, “How do you manage to break everything?”
There was no point in trying to deny it so I said, “It happened by mistake. It’s not like I planned to break your heels.” She gave me an angry stare and went to her room. Right when she slammed the door my mom, who was sitting on the sofa, said, “OK. Just try to be nice to her.” My sister didn’t talk to me for a day, but after I said a billion apologies she forgave me.
Soon after my mom and sister tried to convince me to go shopping with them for my own pair of heels. But I am not a big fan of shopping so I said no. When they came back from the mall my sister showed me two pairs, one black and one silver, they had bought for me. They were pretty but difficult to walk in even though they were the right size because they’re heels and heels always hurt.
Since that day I have worn heels a few times on special occasions. Every time I have gotten blisters. Who would have thought that something that looks so innocent and pretty could turn out to be so dangerous and painful?
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