steel toes and stilettos

Sarah stood over her desk at work, reading an invitation to speak at an event at her alma mater. The event was called Steel Toes and Stilettos, and was an event celebrating women in engineering. When Sarah was in college, the group of women engineers was quite small. Most of them were married or divorced young women who had gone back to school for a second degree, and really the only degree that even could compensate for the loss of a person's extra income was an engineering degree.

Now it seemed that the flier held promise in the future. In addition to the women in the engineering college, the event also included high school girls. Sarah remembered high school, and its painful lessons, particularly when she was told by a female math teacher that she just wasn't good at math. Every day in high school, she was constantly overlooked by female teachers who favored male students in her math and science courses. When they made a mistake, they were given opportunities to learn. When she made a mistake, she was told, "you're just not good at this, and you're not going to use it later in life, so why bother?"

Sarah had been beaten for the position of valedictorian by a boy who had managed to squeeze in some AP credits that she wasn't able to receive. Even though she and the boy had the same GPA, the school was more willing to work with him to incorporate more AP credits into his schedule. They barred her from an AP physics course, saying that the class was too full of people who were actually going to use it for the rest of their lives, and that she was only going to be a teacher.

She did become a teacher, of sorts. She preferred to think of herself more as a professor and researcher, though. She was the only female professor in the department, and without tenure, her position was precarious.

She decided after reflecting on her position that she would accept the invitation to speak in front of a crowd of women, who like her, shared the same special experience of being a female in engineering. What would she say?

Snowangels and Wellies

It had been nearly two weeks since Vivienne had finished her role as a snowflake in the local ballet company's rendition of The Nutcracker. If Vivienne had to hear one more piece by Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky, she would throw her pointe shoe at the radio playing Christmas music, or the television playing car advertisements. Really Vivienne Noël didn't dislike Tchaikovsky's work, but she was very tired of it. After years of Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliet, and The Nutcracker, she had developed a mild disdain for each of the pieces by the time the ballet was finished, only for it to dissipate by the next season. Each season, she was filled with wonder and excitement, and this season had been no different. She had enjoyed her role, but it was time to rest and spend the holidays with family and friends.

It struck her as odd that this year was to be different. Her birthday was two days before Christmas, and she had passed her driving test. But her parents would not get her a car, even though her mother, Veronica, had told her husband that she couldn't keep driving her around to all the ballet practices and rehearsals for one more year. Vivienne was crushed.

"Mom, seriously, I'm sixteen," she whined.

"I don't want to hear it again," Victoria said on her daughter's birthday as she was baking pecan pies and dreading Christmas in general. Her husband had recently gotten a promotion and had to work Christmas Eve, leaving Victoria, a schoolteacher, alone with the kids over the majority of Christmas break.

"But Mom!"

"NO. You are not getting a new car no matter how much you whine, end of discussion."

Vivienne called her friend Jess and whined about how much she wanted that little baby blue mustang she saw at the dealership back when her dad was contemplating the purchase of a new car. Jess said that all parents suck and she should be thankful that hers weren't divorced. Vivienne invited Jess to walk over to her house, which was in the same gated community. Jess and Vivienne threw themselves out into the 3 ft. drifts of snow, making snow angels and throwing snowballs like they did five years earlier when school had been cancelled. For one moment, Vivienne forgot all about the car.

foot popping kiss at midnight

Kate's boyfriend of a year was indeed the cat's meow. Tall, dark and handsome, he never failed to be sweet to her. He even gave Kate her childhood Christmas wish; a kitten under the tree on Christmas morning, meowing and playing in the tinsel. The adopted kitty was an affectionate 9 month-old adopted from the shelter. He was named Matisse and would slink around the apartment, scaring her superstitious roommate, Ana, who believed that the black kitty was bad luck and was ruining her love life.

On New Year's Eve, Luca, Kate's sexy boyfriend, asked her if she would love him even if he were broke. Kate said that she would, and they spent the night in, even though she had planned on dressing up in her splurge of the year; a pair of Givenchy stilettos that cost nearly a month's rent. Sadly, she put away the beautiful shoes and put on a pair of sweats, a camisole and flip-flops. At midgnight, he popped a bottle of champagne Kate's sister Jane left for her on Christmas Eve. As the university bells could be heard in the distance striking each hour, he told her that she was beautiful, and stooped down to kiss her. This was the first year that Kate hadn't been alone on New Year's Eve, and she couldn't have been happier.

maya's favorite shoes lose some of their sparkle

Maya wiggled her toes in us, her watermelon sandals, flashing her pink glitter pedicure in the warm midsummer sun. Her light blonde hair had been separated into two braids that morning and coiled on top of her head like bear ears, but now it had fallen down while she played in the sprinkler and now was a wet mass of tangled waves. Her mother took her inside the house and used a rattail comb to separate it and braided her hair so tightly that her eyebrows were pulled into an expression of perpetual surprise.

"Mom, it's too tight!" she shrieked. Her mother removed the elastic bands and fixed Maya's hair again, this time a little looser, telling Maya not to touch her hair again. Maya found her favorite doll, Cinderella, and took her outside into the sprinkler to play. Cinderella's hair was as ratted and finespun as cotton candy; Maya's mother would just get her a new one for Christmas anyway. While Maya was telling Cinderella that she was a good girl with good friends, Shayla's mom drove up to their house in her green SUV and parked it nearly diagonally in the driveway, simply because Shayla's mom couldn't park. She took Shayla out of her pink toile car seat and brought Shayla around to the backyard where Jane was watching Maya.

"Hey Jane, how are y'all?" Shayla's mom Ashley asked as she chewed mint gum in her mouth and held the toddler on her skinny hipbone.

"Fine, and y'all?" Jane asked. Ashley put Shayla down on the ground, at which point Shayla ran to play with Maya in the sprinkler. The two women chatted until they heard Maya screaming.

"Those are my shoes, Shayla!" Maya yelled. Shayla said nothing because she couldn't talk very well. She was six months younger than Maya, and not nearly as vocal. While Shayla could say simple sentences explaining what she wanted, this statement bothered her as her brows furrowed in deep thought. Shayla gave up on finding the words, shook her head in confusion, and reached out and grabbed Maya by the ankles, pulling her down on the ground, screaming the words 'no' and 'mine' as tears ran down Maya's face.

"Baby Shayla doesn't want those! She doesn't want them," Maya said as Jane and Ashley came to separate them. Maya had forgotten about the black sparkle shoes as they were replaced in the summer by sandals with flowers on them as her favorite shoes, but like an old faithful friend, Maya had remembered them as soon as she saw them on Shayla. The shoes whispered quietly, trying to explain to Maya that they were too small for her now, but Maya couldn't hear them, and after that day, shoes lost their magical powers in her mind, and would never speak again. Instead she focused her vivid imagination on her cat, Dave.

lucky shoes, lucky in love?

Ana gingerly opened the box, again, feeling slightly queasy. This was the second time that she had opened the box, only there was an outer sarcophagus made of corrugated cardboard and packing tape to cut through first. After discarding the styrofoam packing peanuts, she finally found the brown box with the white loopy type on the lid, and opened it. We were like new again, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her shoes were brought back to life by the sorcerers at Louboutin.

She pulled us out of the box, and slipped us on her pedicured feet. She had a date, with the guy that she referred to as "Kazinsky's friend". Kazinsky's friend's name was actually Brian, but her relationships were so fleeting that she didn't really talk about men by name, but by who her friends might know who may know her date. So, this one had been dubbed Kazinsky's friend, after the incredibly geeky guy who worked in the information technology department at the university, fixing networks and recovering accidentally deleted files.

Brian dropped by her apartment later that night and picked her up in his new F-150, and took her to the city to a fairly swanky Italian restaurant with cloth napkins, oversized white plates, and candlelit tables. Everything was perfect, including us, her beautiful lucky Louboutin shoes. They played footsie under the table, and she felt that they had a connection. After the dinner was over, he asked for the check and suggested that they walk downtown and admire the canal and street performers.

"But my shoes," she said, looking down at us as she spoke apologetically.

"That's fine, I'll just get my truck from the valet and we'll just go back to my apartment. It's nearby, do you want to watch a movie?" he asked. She agreed, and after the movie, they sat on his black leather couch inside a townhouse apartment downtown. Everything was going well, and this was their sixth date. She was a rules girl and had finally felt it was time to take it to the sheets.

Afterward, she laid in his bed, falling asleep. He nudged her, and said, "Hey, I think you should go now."

"But it's 2 am, and I don't have my car here, can't I stay?" she asked, confused and bewildered.

"Yeah, well at this stage in our relationship, I don't think it's a good idea that you sleep over," he said.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.

"I'll call a cab," he said, picking up his phone.

"Don't bother," she said and walked to the door. It was 5 steps away, but she was there in three.

"Hey, hey, hey! Why are you leaving like this?" he asked.

"Because you're an asshole," she said, thinking about how absurd it was that he was going to send her on a $50 cab ride alone, at 2 am.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just don't feel it's appropriate at this point in our relationship," he repeated. She whipped out her cell and text messaged a friend who was in the city that night, clubbing. She then walked out the door, and waited for her friend to pick her up. There was a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk across the street, and she pleaded to God that her friend would pick her up soon, so she could take off her shoes, shower, and go to bed.

kitten heels, baby stilettos

She was exhausted. After a long day at the salon, her feet and back were aching. The ammonia in the dyes had been particularly bad this week because she had a sinus infection, and all she wanted was to go home to her family. Her husband was great, and she had everything she wanted, except for children. She desperately wanted children, and at 33, the clock seemed as if it were already ticking. She was petrified of being barren, especially because she had wanted to have children for the past three years, and her older sister already had three of her own.

Three children was one too many, she thought. She only wanted two, but her husband still felt that it was too soon, so she was still on the pill. Every time she took the pill, it felt like another tick of the clock, and she was closer and closer to becoming barren. But she respected his wishes and didn't want to pressure him into something that he didn't want.

Besides, at this point, she had to focus on saving money so she could eventually open her own salon. First though, she would have to go to the doctor and take care of the sinus infection so she could be more focused on work, which was miserable standing in her kitten heels as her head throbbed and all she wanted to do was lie down with menthol rub underneath her nose and a warm washcloth on her forehead. Thank God tomorrow was her day off.

She drove home that night and her husband, Michael, cooked dinner for her. He cared deeply about her and after her bath, he massaged her back and feet. They went to bed, and the next morning, Julia took her birth control pill dutifully and headed to the clinic. After filling her prescription, she took the antibiotic, kicked off her kitten heel shoes, and went back to sleep.

walk a mile in her shoes, but send them to Africa first

"How could this ever happen?" Veronica thought. She was in her late 50's, and wearing probably the most sensible shoes ever made. Her husband of 35 years had just served her the divorce papers, citing irreconcilable differences. She had felt that this was coming, and sensed that he was being mentally unfaithful to her as they had raised the last of their five children and sent him off to college.

College, where they had met, was thousands of miles away in her mind. They had met during the late 60's as freshmen, and she was incredibly attractive, with her short skirts, boots, and long blonde hair that was always straight. He had fallen for her while he was an pharmacy student, and she was an art student. Opposites had attracted then, but 30 years later, they simply repelled. Since that year in college, she had settled down, and lost her slightly bohemian attitude, and entered into accounting. They became a boring couple, accustomed to each other's imperfections, and then ignoring them. That was the first thing that happened, and after that the romance died, they had sex a few times a year, and then they just stopped altogether. They still slept in the same bed every night, but the kisses were cold, hard, and without love.

Veronica sighed quietly as she drank her black coffee with two sugars. She would have to change her life and adjust to this new situation with dignity and above all, sanity. She had devoted 35 years of her life to him, marrying him when she was 21 years old, and now she was 58. Being alone scared her half to death, and the thought of dating scared her even more than being alone. She had no idea how to approach it, and then thought back to her college days when she had the horrifying experience of holding her date's bottle of Crown while he got glasses and the bottle slipped out of her hand that was wet with sweat caused by her nervousness. The bottle shattered and the guy came rushing to her, begging her to tell him that the bottle wasn't theirs.

She couldn't go through that again. She had to know herself first before she could think about dating again. She decided that the first thing that was wrong with her life was the "safe" job that she had taken because her husband had told her to be practical about her major and career. She had let him form her into his ideal woman, but that wasn't even good enough for him. He had an affair with his coworker for the past two years before he finally brought up the subject of divorce. She had known about the affair all along, but never had really believed he wanted to leave her.

She stared at her shoes and her outfit, and the diamond ring on her left finger, thinking that pinstripe suits and sensible shoes shouldn't even be her weekend uniform. The first thing to go would be the shoes. She was tired of being sensible just because her soon-to-be-ex-husband disliked frivolity and hated seeing her spend money from the joint bank account on things like clothing and shoes. She placed them in the bag hanging on her door for the African relief fund.

She looked into her closet, pulled out a pair of wide-leg denim jeans that she had bought the month before but never worn, a long-sleeved silk blouse, and a pair of black pointy-toed shoes. She put them on, took off her wedding ring, and headed to the salon for her cut and color. It was over. She could dye her hair, cut it, or do anything she wanted to it without asking for her husband's permission.