My Five Inches Friend

Written by Adetola Adeolu-Balogun, a LagosMums Guest Blogger



Once upon a time when I was young, I watched in amazement how my mother carried herself in various types of high heeled shoes and sandals. I remember that I would wear her shoes and take a walk in the front of the mirror like a model, most times I fall and stumble and other times, I just got it right.

My mother will come in and laugh heartily, sometimes urging me on and then she tells me “you will get there soon, and thereafter, you will get tired of them”. I wondered how soon this time will come and if I will truly ever get tired of this “five inches wonder”.

As soon as I fell in love with dresses, my love for shoes began and it grew hot like fire, I would always insist on high heels whenever my mother shopped for us. It was high heels or nothing!

She will sometimes refuse my proposal and lecture me on the beauty of flats as well but I turned deaf anytime she tried to lecture me, and I could not wait to get into the University to shop for myself without having to listen to inaugural speeches before acquiring my database.

So, as soon as I was able to shop for myself I began to buy these inches in variant, so long as it comes with inches, I would shop. That was my journey to being a shoeholic.

I bought like today will not come, and I just loved the carriage and poise these inches gave me. I have a petite figure, and if you know what I mean heels are my best friends. I was glad I could walk and talk a shoulder above others; I was a queen in my world.

Who would blame me? When we were asked to make a line in the school assembly, yours truly was always part of the top five, so I would not blow a chance at being labeled or described as tall.

I cannot remember an inch so high that I could not walk in, even with the bad roads in school; I will walk like a pro in my high heels. My mother will look at my shoe collection and I am sure she blamed herself for encouraging me to walk a mile in her shoes as a child.

Then I got married and while expecting, I loathed to wear pumps, I still wore my heels till I was in my second trimester, but I always got disapproving glances from passer bys especially the older generations.

Some will walk up to me and give me series of lectures on the hazards of heels while pregnant  while some will look at me with so much disgust that I will check myself if I was having a bad hair day. So, I just stopped wearing them.

It was already getting hard to walk in them anyway. I was always looking forward to my EDD partly because I could not wait to see this cute baby growing inside of me and also because I will be free to walk in my heels.

The nine month course came to an end, and I was so relieved.

But, did I jump right in my heels?

I wish I did, after an exhausting day of caring for the newborn and catching up with the rest of my life, those heels did not just matter anymore.

While in my second and third trimester, I had acquired a mass of gladiator sandals, flip flops, sports shoes, ballerina flats, trainers, and its company. I could not believe that miss-heel-or-nothing will be in these shoes.

And my mother, she did not fail to remind me that she was an octopus having predicted that such a time will come. My spouse will always laugh out to my chagrin and I always tell him that it was just for a while.

Post-natal came and I went back to my good old habit, however, this time I only shopped for the sake of my shoe rack. I would buy my heels quite alright, but I will not wear it for more than five times. The few times I wore them, I always changed to my flats.

Wearing these heels though it still felt good but the pain it caused was a nightmare. I wondered why I was subjecting my feet to such a horror, and I was quick to shop for lesser and comfortable inches. I am done with stilettos, or “Broom stick” as my mother referred to them.

Now I embrace pumps, wedges and platform like never before and I have grown to shop less and save more. Needless to say that I missed a step in those heels after post natal and so nobody had to lecture me, I was my own counselor. Beauty can be pain indeed.

I find myself casting those same disapproving looks when I go into the cinemas, malls or places where you see lots of teenagers. This summer, I was tempted to call a pretty girl in a hot stiletto to give her my share of lecture when I remembered the words of my mother.

I rather wait, smile and grin like an Octopus when her time will comes.

But I still remain a shoeholic with a sense of saving!

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