At first glance this picture doesn't scream happiness or beauty. My legs and feet could easily play the part of Jane Doe No.1 on CSI, with their sexy shades of deathly, bloated purple. But for me it's beautiful. For me it is a reminder that every now and then I can be normal(ish). Every now and then, I can give Bob the middle finger, and live life on my terms, if only for a few hours.
I recently went to a family wedding. Those who read my ramblings on Facebook will be aware of my determination to wear heels to the wedding. It's been four long years since I have been able to wear heels. When you have Bob standing is not your friend. Your balance is non-existent. Even the tiniest heels are akin to walking on stilts. So really, on reflection, deciding to wear heels may not have been the sharpest choice I have made in life.
I practiced for days around my house. Heels with my pjs. Heels with my shorts. Heels when I was sitting down or lying on the floor. I watched my bloated purple feet squeeze out through the holes in the shoes as I did the elegant zombie shuffle whilst furniture surfing around the house. I decided that regardless of the risk of snapping an ankle or flashing the bridal party with my undies when I inevitably went arse up, I was wearing heels. (Thank you to all, including the bride to be, who suggested I wear my best undies, just in case. Rest assured I grabbed out my 'special occasion' undies just for the day). Over the next few days I improved from 'unco zombie' to 'drunken celebrity It girl walking down imaginary steps'. I was proud.
Despite a pulse pressure that dropped down to single digits, days in bed, and visitors, I managed to gussy myself up and put on those heels and head to the wedding. I managed to find enough chairs and luckily have a husband for whom holding me up is second nature, so I didn't flash my undies to anyone. I walked/shuffled around the event, with no one else any the wiser to my weirdness. I may have paid for it big time for the following few days and may not wear heels again for another four years, but I was normal for a few hours and that is precious. Those mottled, bloated and aching legs and feet, squished into that sexy pair of heels are beautiful to me.