Age resistant

Had I been able, I would have grown old wearing three inch heels.  I love seeing grey haired women in crisp trousers and jackets.  And heels.  I don’t even have grey hair.  The last time I wore heels was at my daughter’s wedding.  That was twelve years ago and they were the only pair I had saved, my beautiful Victorian boots with two inch heels.

The earrings were wonderful.  Corkscrew, ear specific.  I gave them to Shelly during the reception.  It had been so long since I wore earrings, even gold, they hurt.  The ring is my Grandma Rolf’s engagement ring.  A bloodstone cabochon, our birthstone. It’s put by for Caroline.

No, when I left the corner office (actually, a hallway passed my office in two directions) in 1988, my three inch heels were idled.  Can’t weave in them, could drive eight hours in them, but would have to change to sneakers to offload hundreds of pounds from my van and set up a show.  They just weren’t practical.  I did wear nice sneakers or nice Mary Jane’s at my shows.

Probably the fall I retired.  With Linda and her daughter Cara, right after Linda’s mastectomy.  Cotton was all she could stand to wear.  Fortunately, I wove cotton.  My Mary Jane’s were toward the end of their road.

I retired to get a new hip.  I stood right up against the wall and the technician measured me at 5’6”.  Which I was. That was to leave my leg the correct length on the operating table.  I remained 5’6” for another couple of years.  Then I started limping.  I was down to 5’5”, except where I had a titanium hip and thigh bone.  I put a quarter inch lift in my right shoe.

A couple years after that I fractured my back.  It involved a lot of stupidity on my part.  Now I ask those nice clerks to lift a carton of copy paper into my cart.  That was like getting on the down escalator for height. 

So, I’m 5’4”, and definitely in the vertically challenged group.  Adding the stroke to that, well…as they reminded me when they discharged me from physical therapy, I’m not a stable woman.  Give me a cane and I can get through Ikea with Beth and Caroline any day.  As long as my current pair of sneakers have gone to the shoemaker to have the sole sliced apart and a half inch rise inserted.  Actually, that’s pretty cool.  He just slices through the sole, glues on a half inch piece the same color, glues the sliced off piece back on and hey presto, both my legs reach the ground simultaneously.

I’m still fussy about shoes.  I like suede sneakers in the winter; far warmer.  Right now I’m wearing red canvas sneakers and have black and white plaid sneakers in my closet.  Oh, and a beautiful pair of oxfords for weddings and funerals and meetings.

But, my winter New Balance suede sneakers are pretty disreputable after several winters of snow and slush in the parking lot.  I went looking for a new pair.  They’re called Retro.  They haven’t been to my shoemaker, yet.

So, I’ll be seventy next March, and still have three inch heels.  Made in the USA.  Me and the shoes.  Thank you New Balance.

Now, about the grey hair...