Wedding Shoe Dropout…

25 02 2010

You remember the song that they sing in the musical Grease, Beauty School Dropout? If not, go here! If you do, then you know that the song came at the time when poor Frenchie knew her beauty school skills just were not going to cut it anymore.

Your own D-Magic had her own dropout experience this past Valentine’s Day. As I told you all before, I had a beautiful wedding to attend this Valentine’s Day. Truly – it was on Platinum Wedding TV Show status! And of course, you know my shoes had to match the event, right? Right… which is exactly what I was thinking when I placed these lovely crystal sequined shoes from Aldo on my Christmas List for my parents to pick from.

As luck would have it – my mommy got them for me! WOOT!!!! As unluck would have it, as soon as I tried them on, I knew it was going to take all of my heel wearing experience to make it through the night in these bad boys.

Now, I’m no amateur, but even the least knowledgeable person about stilettos can look at those heels and know that I had a task ahead of me. But since I’m no amateur, I followed my usual plan. Starting from when I came back to the District from my 2-week vacation at home in New Orleans, I officially had about 5 weeks to master these shoes.

I started off small. I tried wearing the heels for an hour with some thick socks, just chilling in the bed. I mastered that with no problem. Then, I graduated to walking around the apt for 10 minutes per hour, wearing the heels for at least 2 hours at a time. I vacuumed with the heels on. I washed dishes with the heels on. I even caked on the phone with the heels on lol.

And then, the damn snow happened.

And that took about a week and 1/2 of my time from me and an enumerable amount of my game. By the time the snow stuff had ended, I had only mastered wearing the shoes for 3 hours, with socks, walking around the house for 10 minutes every 30 minutes. Not good – considering the wedding + cocktail hour + reception was projected to be at least 6 hours! (This is where you realize the story is going to go wrong lol.)

But I pressed on. I wasn’t going to let these things bitch me. I’m D-Magic, stiletto queen. I got this – or so I thought. When the time came to wear the shoes for the wedding, I realized a huge tactical mistake I’d made as soon as I put them on. Unfortunately, in an attempt to make the shoes more comfortable for the wedding by wearing them with socks at home, I’d failed to see how they felt for hours without socks on. Here’s a clue – not very good.

What I found out was that while the socks definitely did their job of making the sides of the shoe more comfortable for me, they also succeeded in blunting the burn that my toes would normally feel while wearing 4.5 in heels with no hidden platform. Still, I refused to be punked out. I was going to wear those damn shoes.

And my girls who were with me, CCB and C-Murder, oh their shoes were no more sensible than mine were… so I didn’t feel too bad about my stubbornness. There we were, 3 fly sexy ass mamas walking to the wedding ceremony, knowing in our hearts we would not make it in these shoes all night. We lucked out for a while though. We found seats immediately upon entering the room where the ceremony was held. We found a small unoccupied table with chairs for the cocktail hour and we knew we could certainly make it through the dinner portion of the reception with no problems.

It was the dancing we were really concerned about. So we did what smart girls do… we made sure everyone saw those danged shoes while they could – while they were still on our feet. We crossed our legs to show our shoes. We walked with the bottom of our dresses in our hands to show our shoes. Hell, we even walked up to folks and said, “look at my shoes!” These were not times to be modest, you see lol.

But the Freemans had different plans than we did. Before the dinner actually began and before we knew what was happening – we were being asked to join the wedding party on the dance floor for a few quick dances. The shoes and the feet were not prepared for such surprises. By the time we’d preliminarily danced and walked back to our table for dinner, we all telepathically told each other that we’d be making a break for it upstairs to our room to change into our dancing shoes before we stepped foot onto that dance floor again.

And that’s exactly what we did. Sometime between our entrée of Filet Mignon/Chilean Sea Bass/potatoes and the dessert, we snuck out of that reception room so fast, you would have thought we were auditioning for Wonder Woman roles or something. And what’s even worse, we didn’t even make it to the elevator before we were kicking those shoes off our feet and limping our way to paradise, ie the dancing shoes we’d each picked for the night as the realization of shoe dropout drew nearer.

We took one last picture as evidence of our beauties (picture forthcoming), threw on the comfies, readjusted our dresses and made our way back to the reception as if we were not full inches shorter than what we were 10 minutes prior. I was the worst of the bunch, with my dress now fully dragging on the ground, as I made a complete 5 inch drop from my previous height in the dress. But it was all worth it. The pain, the running to the room, the slight feeling of failure that we only made it through 4 hours of the evening – it was all worth it.

Because that’s how much we’re serious about our shoes. That can’t ever be denied now lol.




5 responses

25 02 2010

That is the most funny commentary ever! LMAO! Loves it. By the by – it was Chilean Sea Bass. How could you forget? I still dream of that Sea Bass!

25 02 2010

LOL glad you enjoyed it :)… and oops! Totes messed that up – I’ll change that asappers!

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