My friend, Lynn, has as much fun buying the gifts as I do receiving them. Because she lives far away now, we do phone visits. When one of us calls the other says, “Hold on while I pour a glass of wine!”
She gave me notice to be on the lookout for the “BOX” several days before it arrived. She sure does know how to build anticipation. I kept watching for the BOX daily. When it arrived, I tore it open and inside were several colorfully wrapped gifts. I wasn’t planning to open any until December twenty-fifth. I know the rules. But this one package had a note on the front that triggered the little devil sitting on my shoulder, “Go ahead. Open it. She’ll never know.” I can just peek and retape it, right. What am I, twelve?
From the feel of it, I was certain it was a T-shirt…a dog T-shirt. And well, I hadn’t done my laundry, all my dog-walking shirts were dirty and I had to wear something, right? I ripped it open and it wasn’t a T-shirt, it was a dog apron! Not walking dogs in an apron.
I got a text from Lynn that very evening saying the package I sent her had arrived. She wanted to open it! She said, “I’ve been squeezing and feeling it, but it is waiting under the tree. I said, “NO!”
And added, “Wait…hold on. Lemme pour a glass of vino and then you can!”
I confessed to opening the dog apron. She howled and said, “Get one of the boxes, any of them will do. Open!”
“A sparkly shoe ornament for my tree. I love it!”
And I placed it on the tree and had a good look. The heels were so high. Who wears shoes like that? Oh yeah, I do.
As I pulled the tag off the ornament, the title grabbed my eye, “Glamour Heels.” Now it all made perfect sense! The tag read, ” The Spine Institute reported 72 percent of women wear high heels at some point during their lives. The high heel shoe lifts the heel so that the leg appears longer and more slender. The glamorous red heeled shoe is a staple for many fashionistas’ closets.”
That explains everything! My childhood friend, Bonnie, and I started wearing heels in the sixth grade. We were two short, fat Jewish girls from Brooklyn – the shoes would fix that! We would still be from Brooklyn though, but I like that.
The trouble is, the heels got higher and I got shorter. Pretty soon I’ll be walking on stilts.
Bonnie has been gone for a few years – she’s strutting her stuff with the angels now, but I’m still wearing the shoes. I miss Bonnie but hold her in my heart always – especially when I go shoe-shopping. Meanwhile, I have a new shoe-friend – an adorable lady named Connie. We rekindled our friendship in a theater class we took at the local community college. She invited me to a party. I asked what I could bring in addition to a bottle of wine. Her reply, “Just wear cute shoes!”
I’m not sure any of these qualify as cute – more like torture devices. I do not consider myself a “Fashionista,” but I do have red shoes. It’s Christmas time. I think I’ll wear the orange ones. They were a birthday gift from my children for my sixty-eighth birthday.
As to showing up to the party, I plan to UBER there but how will I get from the car to the house? It’s on a hill. I know, I know. I can get some of those guys that carry Princess’s carriages- you know, the scantily-clad bronzed ones from days of yore.
No, not pall-bearers. Not yet. Still got some tread on these tires!