We spent the better half of Saturday with our realtor, a woman who goes by the name of an iconic first lady. We’ll call her Betty Ford. It’s my suspicion that Betty Ford wants to make Jake her next vice. She tells him how smart he is, what lovely hair he has and on Saturday took the liberty of massaging his shoulders.
It was an odd moment. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with Jake for a couple reasons. One, I don’t know what I’d have done if he looked to be enjoying it. But the more significant reason was that I could almost guarantee he would look like a kid in one of those after school specials about molestation: “Why is my special friend touching me like this?” And an expression indicating such would’ve sent me to a little place Jake likes to refer to as Giggletown, population 1. But that’s not what this post is about.
While checking out the backyard of a house we were particularly interested in, Betty Ford decided to take off her lesbian shoes (I’ll explain in a minute) and dip her tootsies into the jacuzzi. THIS IS WHAT THIS POST IS ABOUT.
Her shoes weren’t Birkenstocks but they were similar in that they were the kind of footwear that are expensive, although the price tag has nothing to do with the aesthetic value. They’re pricey because the manufacturer has gone to great lengths to make them as pleasurable to the feet as a champagne room stripper is to her clients.
Betty Ford has no doubt spent most her adult years (and I put her in her early 60s) in lesbian shoes. Her feet told me so. The only other female feet over 25 that I’ve seen in such flawless condition belong to lesbians. But Betty Ford isn’t a lesbian. Just ask Jake.
Her feet didn’t sport a single callus, corn or crack. I was in awe. Was Betty Ford onto something?
Clearly this woman has never rocked a stiletto, platform or four inch wedge, which also means she’s never known the relief of removing them. She’s never bought a pair of shoes and factored in the cost of valet. She’s never considered her spouse’s height when selecting her shoes for the evening.
But you know what else she’s never done? Betty Ford has never instantly shed five pounds after slipping on a pair of really high ones. She’s never dangled a peep toe pump off her toe instead of massaging a guy’s shoulders. She’s never told someone her height and had them say, “Really? Why do you seem so much taller?”
I guess the world’s made of two kinds of women: Your high heeled kind and your lesbian shoes kind.
Still, she got me thinking. IS THAT EXTRA FEW INCHES—AND EVERYTHING THAT COMES WITH IT—WORTH THE TROUBLE?