I had a dream last night about running a 30km marathon in high heels, and wake up feeling invincible. Choose 4 inch gladiator sandals with huge buckles, and bravely team them with thigh skimming floral mini, waist cinching fetish belt, and sack forming stripy grandpa top.
My entire day is devoted to shopping for someone else’s wardrobe. Walk 6 hours on asphalt and my calves are tired from being flexed all day. Apart from the legs, I was doing great until the crucial last hour of the shop, when the side of my foot decides to slide off in a circle of popped blister. Have to taxi to my dinner destination, as taking steps brings on yelps of agony.
7pm: God is watching. I remove my heels in the restaurant for 5 minutes reprieve and immediately stub my toe on the way to the bathroom. Blood everywhere, I have to grovel at the waitress for an embarrassingly large blue plaster. Cobalt blue is so Fall 2007.