I can't believe what I've done! I've made (gulp) an "old" decision, old as in old age. Quick, get my fan and smelling salts on a black and white film set.
How could this have haaaappened? It's not too late to reverse my actions - probably. If I act fast. It's like my whole world has turned upside down. And it PISSES ME OFF!!
This time? I only made it as far as leapt. Then I PUT THEM BACK IN THE BOX!!!! But by god, we bonded in that short time together. I don't even know how I ended up in Topshop in the first place.
LOW-HEEL SHOE TERRITORY!
It's a foreign, unfriendly land, full of, uh, low-heel shoes. Blast and damnation!! And why? Well, not because my feet are screaming at me, at least not loudly or daily. No.
I blame it on the season: fall, as in autumn. Insidious subliminal seasonal brainwashing. Fall, as in falling, as in down, as in fear of, as in slippery wet leaves.
Who decided to call it frickin' FALL anyway? I think I'll rename it HIGH HEELS.
Spring - Summer - HIGH HEELS - Winter
Much better.
It's not too late to go back and buy my sweet Lourdes. These shoes are why we have training wheels. And skateboards with handsome young men who tow you with skipping ropes you so you don't even have to walk.
This has all been a horrific menopausal moment!
Oh, feck - that word menopause. Where do all of these ill-conceived words come from?
I ask you, who but a man would name a woman's life passage after his own gender? Men-o-pause, poor delicate creatures afraid of women blossoming into new-found wisdom and strength!!!! Yeah, it's all about how he feels. He pauses? Pffft.
At the very least it should be called women-o-freakout, although it doesn't exactly slide off the tongue.
Fine. How about this for a pause - from now on it shall be known as:
Wisecracking
Wisdom breaking through the shells of self-sacrifice and self-denial
Heh. No more menopause! Blast that word!
I see doctors around the world now: "Yes, [insert name here], it appears you have hit your Wisecracking years," and then him/her running for cover under the gurney stirrups while [insert name here] screams with delight.
Where's my skateboard? Where's my skipping rope? (Where's O? Has anybody seen him? Oh, maybe that's his shaking toe sticking out from under the couch.)
Everything is a fog. Stumbling around on egregiously low heels. Stumbling towards that frickin' ecstasy, meanwhile praying to the Lourdes in their cardboard cradle for salvation.
At least I have my quintuple glasses to help see my way through. Well, in truth I only wear three pairs of glasses stacked (one regular, two reading glasses), not five, and only when I'm sewing with black thread at night. Works so well.
It's all about the focus.
Elevation not with the sole, but with thine eyes. Looking outwards, not at one's feet, to achieve a higher state of being, whilst eschewing the opportunity to grow up (at 75% off). Gaaaa!!
Quick! Bring more sequins before this ill-shod Wisecracker runs out of slipshod double-entendres.
And now clarity. Here's a sober view. That's an old low-rent hotel with the crosses of a local hospital and a long-armed crane across the block looking down on it. I couldn't get a better photo - there were people partying in the parking lot and I didn't think my kind of Wisecracking would be fully appreciated.
This view could definitely be enhanced with quintuple-self-elevating vision, with or without the black thread at night.
Speaking of black threads, I'm wearing my favourite (only) black blouse below. It has a weird stretchy fabric that feels borderline gross. And my train engineer pants with the saggy dropped crotch. The rear view is too special to share.
Wisecracking during High Heels
See? I'm not advertising anything in this post, although it's too bad. Topshop shoes for free wouldn't inspire fear, guilt or remorse nearly as bad as paid shoes, in the same way that chocolates received on special occasions have no calories.
I hope you're having a lovely season so far. Here, the leaves are the colour of pumpkins. And there's something magical about Wisecracking under a High Heels moon.
I'm off now to see if that's O under the couch or a guest I've forgotten about.
I'll link up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed As Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike when the time comes. BUT WAIT! - What's that?!!
A big unexpected PS!
Using a little magic, I granted myself these shoes on Halloween. I'm glad they didn't turn into pumpkins at midnight - they would be much harder to walk in than heels.
It's amazing what 48 hours, since I wrote the first part, can do to a person. Heat, time, and pressure create diamonds. My own heat, time, and pressure got me shoes. Sure diamonds are good, but for only 48 hours on the clock, shoes ain't bad.
Look, I'm space-borne!
Not exactly Twinkle Toes - better than Twinkle Toes!
I went to a Halloween Party at Vancouver Barbara's place. So much fun! I wore this gown for the first time, purchased maybe a year ago at My Sister's Closet. The lace of the skirt is super soft, not picky. Underneath I wore one of my two hoop skirts. Check out that jewelled breastplate. It weighs a ton!
Okay, now you can go! Hahaha!! Thanks for visiting.
P O O F !!
I hope you had a wonderful Halloween!
I howled at that High Heels moon. Did you?
