A sampling of my now abandoned high heel collection.

I don’t care what anyone says, being a woman is harder than being a man. And I’m not talking about lower wages or a history of being treated like dirt. I’m not even going off on a tangent about “Aunt Flo”, pregnancy and childbirth. The very basic day-to-day of being a woman is more uncomfortable and time consuming than even the most metro sexual straight guy or supremely coiffed gay.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love being a girly-girl. I love makeup, skirts, thongs, flat irons and push-up bras. While each of those things cause a little less comfort and/or a lot of extra time, I make the sacrifice for my ladificationess. I’ve even been known to use a dash of tinted moisturizer and some mascara on days when I have no intention of even going outside. Maybe I’m brainwashed by the cosmetics companies and fashion magazines or maybe I just don’t like looking like a hag. Either way, it makes me feel better.

Dr. Scholl’s knows women are nuts.

However, there is one icon of femininity that I have sadly eliminated from my daily wear: the high heeled shoe.

I own at least 20 pairs of high heels. I have separate pants for whether I’m wearing heels or flats. I used to wear heels to work nearly every day. Now I wear heels MAYBE once every couple months. Even then I carry a pair of backup flats.

And therein lies the problem. High heeled shoes are painful enough that we need to carry a second pair of shoes for when we just can’t take it anymore. There is no daily male equivalent to this kind of fashion torture.

Back when I wore heels, there were times when I would plan my activities around them. I would think, “I really need to stop at the grocery store on the way home, but I’m wearing heels.” There was no room in my life for “being spontaneous.” All plans had to be laid out beforehand so I knew whether there would be a lot of walking. If I were a superhero, my kryptonite would be high heeled shoes.

Then there was the time my knee completely seized up and I couldn’t walk. The doctor told me to stop wearing heels. But the doctor was a man, he obviously didn’t understand. The foot, knee, hip and back pain were all my sacrifice for fashion. Duh.

Eventually I came to my senses. I was torturing myself on a daily basis and planning my life around a fashion choice. As much as I’d like to blame Cosmo and Sex and the City, it was my own dumb fault. The worst part? I’m already 5’9″. How much taller could I possibly want to be?

My case is a little extreme. There are some women who are actually comfortable in heels. However, the percentage of women who don’t have high heel pain is about the same as the percentage of women who look good without makeup.

Occasionally I see women at Target working 4-inch heels in the toilet paper aisle or those girls in their wedge sandals at the fair. Now you can’t tell me they’re doing that for the enjoyment. They’re doing it so that their legs look longer and their calf muscles look good. Goodness knows you don’t want the toothless carny working the tilt-a-wheel to think you have stumpy legs.

So what’s the point that this Snarky Self-Helper is trying to make? Some fashion is worth it and some is not. Stop and think about how far you’re willing to go for fashion. Then buy yourself some ballet flats.