self-portrait sunday

project 52, week 22
I have a very simple philosophy when it comes to rainy weather footwear: if your shoes are tall enough, you can go through puddles instead of around them. So far, it seems to work.
It never ceases to amaze me when people tell me they think I'm graceful. My family also laughs heartily when this word is applied to me. You see, I'm the family klutz. At eight, I'd trip on air pockets walking across a room. My mother enrolled me in ballet along with my younger sister to hopefully instill a little bit of grace in me. It worked only to the extent that I can now wear heels.
And as to my heel-wearing obsession: I started wearing them for two reasons. One, I'm 4 inches shy of six feet, and I wanted to fix that. Two (and this is the big one): I used to be very self-conscious about the size of my feet. Much to my dismay, I have the biggest feet in my family, and cannot share shoes with anyone. So, using my extensive knowledge of mathematical principles, I determined that by placing my feet at an angle it would decrease the apparent size. So I started wearing heels when at all possible.
I currently have friends who have never seen me in flat shoes. I'm fine with that. I've also had friends who, when they see me barefoot for the first time, say "I didn't realize you were so short!" I assure them I'm not, not really. I'm taller ON THE INSIDE.
I've had people tell me since then that I'm caving to society's ideas of how I should look/dress with this high heels thing. I disagree. If I were following society's standards, I'd weigh a solid 30 pounds less, I'd watch football, and I'd care about True Blood.
Instead, I know what works for me. I can walk in heels, k? That is the only vaguely coordinated thing I can do. Let me have my tiny triumphs.