Column: High heels, high hopes

One of the most unintentionally humorous endeavors on campus is watching mademoiselles teeter from place to place in their high heels.

Last winter, I watched a girl take her heels off and walk barefoot in the snow. This Bear Grylls impersonator had developed blisters from balancing her stilettos on ice and sought barefoot relief. The only things she gained were sideways glances and, I would assume, frostbite.

The determination is admirable, but practicing should be done behind closed doors.
Learning to walk in heels is like training for a marathon. No one would suggest running 26.2 miles to a beginner, so why should a student walk from Third Street to Memorial Stadium without any practice?

There’s a strong correlation between ladies who stumble around in heels also hanging a misquoted Marilyn Monroe poster in their living rooms. If you really want to live every day like a starlet, try mastering the art of illusion.

Start by wearing heels while walking around your house for short periods and build up. At first, wear heels to put your laundry away or fix your hair in the morning.

When you have mastered that, move on to bigger tasks.

The final steps should be semi-public exposures such as raking a yard or picking things up at the convenience store. The added pressure of the public eye will be good for refining your walk.

Furthermore, remember to work your upper body. The most awkward part of a beginner’s jaunt is a stiff torso.

Walk toward a mirror barefoot, then do it in your heels, focusing on only your upper body. If you notice a change and think you look stupid, there is a 100 percent chance everyone else does, too.

No one wants to be the girl who walked home barefoot and stepped on glass. Whether you have a class presentation across campus or an invitation to your bestie’s birthday bash, a first-aid emergency is never in style.

If you care enough about your image to wear heels in the first place, stepping on nastiness destroys all the work you did earlier.

Consider the marathoner again. Someone who drops out after mile 10 impresses no one. Sure, he ran 10 miles, but is he a winner? No.

Neither are you if you walk home with your heels slung over your shoulder.

­— mwalschl@indiana.edu