Eat the Damn Cake

I just learned about cross-posting, and in the spirit of adventure, I’m trying it. Below is a post that Virginia has just put up on her blog Beauty Schooled. Virginia is the one who’s been posting about her beauty routine, and she’s fabulous, as you’ll soon see, if you haven’t already been to her blog. One of my posts will be appearing simultaneously on both of our blogs soon. After I write it. Which will be really soon. My fiancé just bought me a box of donuts, so I have plenty of material to work with.

Just a quick note before I hand it over to Virginia: We saw the movie Just Wright over the weekend (you know, we were on our way to see a thoughtful, poignant, and edgy independent film based on a Pulitzer prize winning set of short stories called “Contemplations of the Cracked Doorstop,” when a dashing man with steely eyes in a tux helped a stunning woman in a red silk evening gown into our stopped cab, forcing us out at gunpoint. He addressed her as “your majesty,” and then said in a voice as cool as January, “Driver. Go. As if your life depends on it.” As the cab screeched away from the curb, a horde of men dressed in black with guns burst around the corner. We threw ourselves onto the pavement and when we stood up, they were gone. And we were directly across the street from an AMC. We really didn’t have the strength to go any farther). Anyway, Just Wright, despite it’s awful title, was adorable! It made me think a lot about how rare it is for a story to have a heavyset female protagonist, let alone one who is cast in a romantic role. Queen Latifah was totally gorgeous, and her romance feels like a victory for womankind. Which is sort of sad, since it should be completely normal for a big woman to be with a thin guy. And yet it isn’t. At all. Anyway, sorry, my “quick note” got kind of long. The point is: Hooray for media depictions of full-bodied women being strong and sexy and getting the guy. It made me happy.

And now………

MONDAY’S BEAUTY SCHOOLED POST:

The Shoe Astronauts lied to you.

Just catching up on my Google Reader (is anyone else always chronically, despairingly behind on their blog reading?) and this caught my eye over on Jezebel:

Christian Louboutin in the Met Ball: “There were a lot of women wearing my shoes. And some of them came up to me and told me they were uncomfortable!”
I kind of love this. Not Christian — did you really not already know your shoes are so damn pinchy? But the whole idea of women at the Met Ball being like, “dude, WTF already!”

Confession time: I absolutely love shoes.

I have a ridiculously large collection that I keep arranged by color on all these shelves in my closet. When I left my last office job, they had to messenger home the three boxes of shoes that lived under my desk. I’m the type of person that people are always giving shoe greeting cards and shoe calendars. (Plus cat-themed things, which is a whole other story. Dear world, I’m full up on both fronts now.)

And so, I’m at a point where I’m feeling embarrassed about how much I love them, because Carrie Bradshaw et al have put shoes firmly on a Stuff Women Like List that I find sometimes oppressive. I won’t attempt a comprehensive catalog here but other highlights include chocolate, cats and purses. Which are also things I happen to like, dammit.

What I don’t like is the way this List is used to be patronizing to women or enable women to patronize themselves —that Bridget Jones Syndrome where if you like these things you can’t possibly have more serious thoughts on Real Issues because you’re too busy counting calories and moaning over why he hasn’t called yet. You can like shoes and still be a good feminist/driver/person who recycles. I shouldn’t have to explain that again.

I also don’t like how the List makes women feel bad about themselves if they happen to have girl parts and yet mysteriously not love these things. It worries me when I talk to women who hate shoes, because I hear a lot of fear mixed with defensiveness — that they could never walk in heels that high, that they’ll get blisters and break an ankle, that they’ve failed on some essential female front by not being the type of woman who loves shoes.

That’s hogwash. And it’s also the fault of women like me — a group I’ll call the Shoe Astronauts. We’re probably the reason for that List in the first place. We like to walk around in ridiculously high shoes and say nonchalant things like, “they’re actually really comfortable!”

Translation: They’re slowly crushing my fifth metatarsal into oblivion, but I have the Right Stuff, so I can stand it. You there, in your Dansko clogs, are made from an inferior form of estrogen. And you don’t know where to shop.

I once insisted a new pair of strappy sandals were so comfortable, I could walk in them for miles. And I did. Right up until my boyfriend looked down and informed me that I was leaving a trail of blood behind us on the sidewalk.

“But they’re so comfortable,” I said.

I’m working on it. I don’t want to be the reason that another woman feels bad about herself (or her feet). I’m recognizing that this too is a beauty standard that I have conformed to relentlessly and unquestioningly for years. My style has also evolved (thanks working from home!) so I run around in a pair of laceless Converse sneakers most of the time.*

But I still love shoes, in a heart-stopping, heady, where-did-you-get-those-red-peep-toe-slingbacks way. And I still wear beautiful shoes when I go somewhere Important, and I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to be the bridesmaid who takes her shoes off as soon as she hits the reception and dances barefoot all night. Instead I bring cute flats to change into so I don’t have to suffer for more than two hours. And I no longer pretend shoes are comfortable when they aren’t.

I’ll just admit it: Sometimes, I love things that aren’t so good for me.

*Sorry Dankso. I still have my pride.