For the next few days I will be telling stories about my past. And my body. And my memories. This will probably cost me a future job, so be it. I might loose a potential partner. Well yes, if anything I write so freaks you out you can't love me then be on you way. We are not right for each other.
I write with the TV sound off. It is better that way. It causes me to look up from time to time and see what is being pitched for my possible consumption. So far it has been shoe commercials for stuff I can't wear.
I can't wear heels. I found out two years ago why I can't wear heels, one leg is slightly shorter than the other and I have flat feet. Really flat feet. Ducks look at me with envy.
But before I found this out I thought I was female challenged. I kept falling off my shoes. Like I was drunk. But I wasn't. I was unbalanced. I was trying to do something my body wasn't structurally able to do but I kept trying because adult women wear heels and pantyhose that helps to guide the male eyes up to your ass. Or so I've been told.
Three years before I found out the truth about my legs I gave up wearing heels, clogs and anything over 1.5 inches. I had to let it go, I wasn't good at propping up my body on two tiny points. My feet didn't like being squished and the falling thing gets old.
I had to re-create myself in my own image. One that was based on level ground. So when I see images of women with a pair of Cum F*ck Me Pumps I see and don't see. I never see people like me in slinky black dresses looking for a step ladder to gain the attention of some tall guy. I've given up on tall guys anyway. Let the heeled women have them. With time comes acceptance.
It isn't that I don't like shoes. Once upon a time I was fixated on having just the right shoe.
I thought if I had a pair of PF Flyers I would be invincible. I would not be picked on because I have cool sneaks instead of "Bo-Bo's". It seemed important at the time.
Live long enough and you might learn different. Maybe.