High Heels

Since the fifth grade, I was freakishly tall. I towered over boys and in one class I was actually as tall as the teacher. It was more obvious in Jr. High and middle school because no one else managed to hit their growth spurt. To be clear, I was not the tallest—there were certainly others. But I am half Filipina, thereby defying all Asian stereotypes regarding the height of a typical Filipina. I get the height from my father who is mostly Polish. He is like a tree--about six two and almost a foot taller than my Filipina mother.

I look like my mom, but I am tall like my dad. It confused people.

To be a sixth grader and tower over your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins was a bizarre feeling. On my mom’s side, I was a giant. On my dad’s side, I was miniature. The only other person who can sympathize with my experience is my sister; primarily due to the fact that we share the same gene pool.

When I got to high school, the boys started catching up. I had been done growing since the seventh grade, and I was now at an equal height with the boys. I no longer felt like a mutant weed-girl.

 Then, I met The Boy. We were sophomores and The Boy was taller than me. I could even wear heels and he would still have a good inch on me! The Boy and I were going to Homecoming together and I was stoked. I bought a pretty dress and pretty new high heel shoes.

These were my first pair of heels. They were about two and a half inches high, the heel was really narrow, and when I was standing in them I felt really pretty—plus The Boy was still taller than me so I didn’t feel abnormal! Yay!

I made a mistake. The shoes were a trap. We took pictures at a friend’s house before the dance, and walking in the shoes made me look like a dressed up freak on wobbly stilts.

The Boy was nice enough to be my balance post. If he wandered too far from me I’d whimper a little bit for him to come back while I stood in the living room like a stranded puppy until he returned.

I was too afraid to move in those shoes. They were cute, and none of the pictures we took reflect the pain that my feet were enduring.

My feet looked like this

But felt like this

  

Since then, I’ve had a strong aversion to high heels. I know some women love shoes but heels do awful things to women’s feet. This one friend of mine has 80 pairs of cute shoes. And when she shows them to me, all I see is a death trap waiting to capture my foot and hold it hostage.