So I woke up early this morning feeling sexy, feeling scorching HOTTT and wondering why everything smelt like roses on a warm spring day. Normally I would rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor in search of something that doesn’t smell like a putrefying corpse and complete the ensemble with my old but trusted pair of comfy sandals. As it happened, this morning I had a whole hour to prepare for work (1 whole freaking hour!) instead of the customary 20 minute desperate scramble because I over slept yet again.
I located my favourite short funky skirt, my only silk blouse and searched the pile of rubble under the bed for my sexiest piece of shoewear - the new lookatme! lookatme! brownish strappy stiletto I had purchased the other day. Spent more than two minutes on my hair, accessorised and dusted off my only lipstick and eyeliner before applying a generous quantity onto my neglected face. I looked absolutely stunning, if I dare say so myself. I felt stunning, and by gawd was I a sexy little thing and a half.
High-heeled shoes is something only a select few have ever seen on me, so yes, as expected, I did get a few raised eyebrows: "No I’m not seeing anyone. Nope, didn’t get laid recently either". From this promising start, I cannot tell you the precise moment I realised things were not quite working according to plan.
Could it have been the moment I found myself on all fours on the steps leading to my office? Or perhaps it was when broke the heel of one shoe stumbling over some rocks I swear were deliberately placed there to taunt me. Or possibly it was the moment I noticed my sexy gait had somehow transmogrified into a pain-induced stuttering limp.
Its only 11:30am and I'm on my way home to reconsider my footwear selection.
This one thing I know for sure: feeling sexy or not, I will never again be spotted within 5 miles anything above a 1-inch heel.
I located my favourite short funky skirt, my only silk blouse and searched the pile of rubble under the bed for my sexiest piece of shoewear - the new lookatme! lookatme! brownish strappy stiletto I had purchased the other day. Spent more than two minutes on my hair, accessorised and dusted off my only lipstick and eyeliner before applying a generous quantity onto my neglected face. I looked absolutely stunning, if I dare say so myself. I felt stunning, and by gawd was I a sexy little thing and a half.
High-heeled shoes is something only a select few have ever seen on me, so yes, as expected, I did get a few raised eyebrows: "No I’m not seeing anyone. Nope, didn’t get laid recently either". From this promising start, I cannot tell you the precise moment I realised things were not quite working according to plan.
Could it have been the moment I found myself on all fours on the steps leading to my office? Or perhaps it was when broke the heel of one shoe stumbling over some rocks I swear were deliberately placed there to taunt me. Or possibly it was the moment I noticed my sexy gait had somehow transmogrified into a pain-induced stuttering limp.
Its only 11:30am and I'm on my way home to reconsider my footwear selection.
This one thing I know for sure: feeling sexy or not, I will never again be spotted within 5 miles anything above a 1-inch heel.
Comments