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High Heels

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High heels. Thought to be the invention of a woman, billed as a bid by the shorter species to reach heights closer to those of their masculine counterparts. I do not believe this to be so. Recently, while playing tennis with my husband, he commented from across the net that I should be playing naked, in high heels. After contemplating this for a nano-second or two, I let him know that wouldn’t be happening. Some parts are already close enough to the belly button without THAT kind of help. So I respectfully declined.

Smarty went on to try to skillfully negotiate a compromise, saying I could leave the outfit on, but asking me to add the high heels. Ah-hah. I’m onto them now. Took me a while, but I finally caught on. Can you imagine how high heels would slow us down on the court? Just as they slow us down in the halls, in the mall, everywhere. I know that when I’m ready to power-shop, the high heels are history, and the tennis shoes are on.

I’d like to get my hands on the guy (bet he was short) that invented those performance-hindering heels. But instead, let’s start a new movement. A no-stiletto, comfy-soled, tennis shoes-at-work movement. Better yet, a movement pushing for men to wear high heels. Heck, with metro-sexual men appearing at every corner, it shouldn’t be that hard. These days they want to be like us, girls. So let’s give them a hand. And take a foot. And put a high heel on it. See ya on the court, boys.

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