I feel like I need to let all the ladies here in on a little something I figured out during my trip that really surprised me.
I was chatting with a gentleman at a club who was wearing converse with a suit. Now, I don’t actually give a crap that he was wearing canvas shoes to a nice establishment- I just couldn’t get over my jealousy that he got to enjoy his night in comfortable shoes. I pointed out the injustice that he was able to wear sneakers while I danced in heels, and I think he and his friend were genuinely surprised by the fact that I don’t think dancing in stilts for 4 hours is fun.
As I type this, my two big toes, the ones I need the most, are still swollen from the dancing I did last Friday. I’m in some real danger of losing a toe nail. And yet men are so sure that we wear heels (and tiny dresses) for our own pleasure.
At this point, it was my job to enroll them in Women’s Studies 101 and school them in the ways of what it’s like to be a lady out on the town. (Side note: why don’t I have a boyfriend? I thought guys loved ranting feminists).
Literally, this guy and his friend were surprised when I pointed out that the heels were actually to impress their species and not so I could reach my inner Shania Twain, because man, I feel like a woman.
Members of the male population really think that we enjoy bouncing around in spandex. They have no idea how exhausting it is to suck your stomach in for hours. If we were dressing for ourselves we would be wearing some adidas and yoga pants -clothing more conducive for the actual cardio work out that is dancing. If women just loved their sweaty feet sliding around in heels while they broke it down (from here to China Town), you’d see some moms in Zumba class dancing to The Electric Slide in their finest Arden B stripper dresses.
Now, I’m not saying women don’t like dressing up, but I would personally like to dress up when I’m on my way to a place where I can sit down- dinner, a show, etc.
Maybe this is just me- when I dance I want to dance without being tied down by the worry of my lady bits escaping from my dress. I would also like to be able to dance like a hippie at Woodstock and not like a girl named Candy Champagne at the Boom Boom Room, but that’s another story for another day.