I have at times needed a whole day on the couch to recover from a night out in high stilettos. Forcing my lackeys (children) to fetch me refreshments, daring only to get up to shuffle gingerly to the toilet like a bound footed Chinese dancer. My feet were maimed by gorgeous (and expensive) shoes that were impossible to walk in. But can you even call them shoes if you can't even walk in them? Is not the sole purpose of shoes to act as foot protection? Are shoes not intended to make walking easier than it would be, say in bare feet? So then why are we, intelligent modern women, spending good money on these prettied up torture devices?
The only saving grace about the situation is that anyone eaten by zombies whilst in high heels will not make a very fast zombie - even if they aren't wearing the heels once turned, their feet will be so fucked that they won't be chasing anyone very fast.
The same thing goes for any other situation where fast running means the difference between life and death: Tsunami, lion escaped from the zoo, knife wielding psychopath, 50% off sale at Gucci. All of these are prime examples why high heels are bad idea.
Whenever I wear high heel,s I struggle to walk let alone run. I take every step carefully for fear that I am going to fall on my face. Run? In heels? Are you kidding? Just walking from the car to the venue is enough of a challenge! And the only reason I can even keep the damn shoes on all night is because I tend stand (or sit) still and drink plenty of wine. Otherwise, trouble!
I once bought a pair of pointed slingback heels to wear to a special event. By the end of the night my toes were triangle shaped and my slingbacks would no longer sling back. Thus, causing my arches to do all the work to keep the suckers on my feet. That night I was awoken with the worst foot cramp I have ever had! Cramp is awful. In hell you get cramp every five minutes. These days I take magnesium after wearing slingbacks, just to avoid a repeat of the cramp experience!
At New Zealand Fashion Week earlier in the year almost every woman there had a spare pair of flats in her hand bag. What for? For walking in. No one is actually foolish enough to try and walk anywhere in those ridiculous fashionable shoes.
I call myself a feminist, but here I am, willingly making myself vulnerable and dependant on men. For without the arm of a strong man to cling to, there is no way I can walk anywhere in heels. But hey, at least I can vote!
The way I see it, we have three options. A) We continue to wear heels and accept that we will in fact die when the zombies come. B) we switch to wearing funky flats (my preferred option). Or C) We rub our soles with sand paper every night, slowly creating a hard leathery callous. Why? So that when the zombies do come we can whip off those heels (that no longer hurt our leather feet) and flee faster than Usain Bolt! Painlessly crunching over gravel and smashed glass with our super-calloused non-fragilistic feet! Unless of course we want to stay and kick zombie butt. Like Ripley would.
There is one good thing that will come of the zombie apocalypse: All the skinny, high-heel shod supermodels will get eaten first!