"I knew it. You can't wear high heels.", Honey Lips chided.
"It's not like I don't try at all. I used to stand on my feet with high heels on for more than 8 hours a day.", I retaliated.
"Well you're getting old then.", Honey Lips teased.
And then added, "And you're looking so sexy tonight. I wanna give it to you real good tonight."
Pointing to my feet, I said, "Let's go. Else I'll fall flat on my face."
With me leaning on him, we made our way to the car where, with a sigh of relief, I exchanged the high heels for a fancy schmancy pair of flat-soled shoes. I always carry a spare when I go out. Just in case you know.
How in the hell do you do it? I was under the illusion for so many years that my weight was the cause. I'm slightly heavy in the belly and thigh areas. But then I see those heavy T mommas strutting on murderous heels and enjoying every goddamn minute of it.
Secretly, I wish, when I see a portly woman on stilettos, that she would trip! I'm mean like that. Lick my balls.
But karma is kicking me in the
ass heels. I'm considering packing away my stilettos and come-fuck-me shoes to gather dust in some dark corner of my closet. When I go out, I look forward to having a good time and not to wince every time I take a step. High heels kill. I don't care what you say.
And God bless his heart. HL didn't relent one inch and kept on complimenting me even when I was a few inches shorter than when I left home. Back to the party, we stayed for another hour, dancing our feet off.
Once home, the last words coming out of his mouth was, "You were looking gor-jyor-geous tonight!" and nodded off.
He made it up to me this morning.