Friends frequently ask when I’ll have new personal essays to share. I’m always writing and pitching them, but not every pitch results in an acceptance from a publication. So if you’re an essay fan and you’ve already read the ones on the website, here’s a peek at an essay that’s in the works:
Tentative title: “Walking Miles in My Shoes.”
My high heels have been sitting on the dining room table for several days. The somewhat worn, three-inch black suede pair with black satin ties; the three-inch ivory peep toes that remind me of Marilyn Monroe; and the three inch blue oxfords that I bought partly because I loved the cool factor of wearing blue suede shoes. They’re headed to the thrift store. But they’re so pretty. They make every outfit look better. They turn me into someone who loves being 5’ 11 ½. And they hurt like hell, so here’s my dilemma: if I decide that vanity will no longer keep me in pain-ridden style, will that be the first step down the slippery slope leading to orthopedic shoes with slits for bunions?