This is a learning process, isn't it. In girl terms, we're fourteen years old, we don't really know nothing about nothing despite decades of closer observation of femininity than is normal for a bloke. I don't have to take the crash course required of someone going full-time so none of it's too serious for me, but even so from time to time there comes one of those moments when I realise I have something to learn.
If you ask a cross-dresser wearing any label about their formative experiences the chances are that somewhere in the mix will be a tale involving shoes. Stana posted hers a few days ago, I'm sure a read around the blogosphere will reveal more. Trying on one's mothers or sister's heels seems to be an important rite-of-passage for the gender variant youth, meaning that the wearing of heels is as much a part of it all as the rest of the clothing and walking in them as an adult does not present a problem.
Unfortunately for me I was denied that particular pleasure. I'm sorry to say that what female shoes there were in our house seemed to be spectacularly boring in nature, and having outsize feet from a relatively early age none of them would have fit me anyway. Perhaps that's as well, the most important footwear when you grow up on a British farm are your wellies.
So I was presented with a bit of a problem yesterday when I unwrapped my shiny new Le Dames with their three inch heel. Yes, they fit. Wow! They make my feet look smaller! So that's what the top of the lamp shade looks like! Now, how the hell do I walk in them?
Not as much of a problem as I expected. Ankles intact, I made a circuit or two of our flat. Damn. We live in a tiny flat. I need a proving ground. Ideally a long echo-y corridor straight from a school or a hospital. Tell me you've never sat there all envious as someone toc-toc-tocs her way along! Our flat is too full of furniture. So, open the doors, out of the living room, down the passage, into the bathroom, turn through 180 degrees, reverse the above, and so on. Avoid the kitchen with its lino, make sure to take in the nice bit of hard floor by the front door. Soundless on the carpet, so - - - -toc(by the front door)- - - - -toc- - and so on. At this point my wife thinks it's all very funny. I don't blame her.
The plus side is that after all that fun and games, my feet don't hurt. I can now see why very tall women like my sister or my cousin rarely wear such heels. I'm very glad to have a pair though, it's one of those because I can moments. And believe me, I will.