I really like wearing heels. I truly believe that there are heels out there that genuinely comfortable and fun to wear. As a matter of fact, here’s a typical conversation when Todd and I are together.
Todd and I: Let’s go to the park to take a walk.
Todd (looking down at my feet, which have heels on them): Will those be ok for walking?
Me: Psh, yea-ah. These are like my alternative to Nikes.
Then generally, if the truth be told, the rest of the event unfolds with Todd holding my hand patiently while I trip over cracks in the sidewalk, fall off the edge of the sidewalk, or slip about on polished restaurant floors as if we are on an ice skating date.
But, still, I love my heels. I knew already about the health risks. I saw my great-grandma. She loved her heels too, and rumor has it that when she retired it took a good ten years before her feet wanted to flatten out and fit into slippers. Those heels can do some funny things to arches, and I know all about the warning that say heels are terrible for the ball of the foot. Well, you just go for those nifty Dr. Scholl’s cushions and keep right on walking in my opinion.
But, today, I uncovered a new danger that lurks with the decision to wear heels. I fear for my teeth. Yes, I might be less scared now about retiring and fitting into those comfy slippers. Instead, I’m scared that my teeth won’t last until retirement. I’m making good progress towards being 100% recovered from tooth extraction, and since I was feeling more steady on my feet today, I decided to wear heels to work. As I was walking to lunch, with each step, I could feel a tiny jarring sensation in the nerves of my poor recovering teeth and then there was a slight clink as upper and lower teeth bounced together. So, there you have it. When I retire, I’m going to need slippers with a kitten heel AND dentures.