Hello Pink Ladies!!
I HAVE TO BUY SHOES. Normally, these are words that women live and die for. The art of shoe shopping has made DaVincis out of all of us. We have mastered it. But this time, I have to shop for stripper shoes for my S Factor class. 6-inch hooker-esque shoes. OH BOY. Where does one go for such things?
Well, thanks to Julia Roberts, I know where to head. Hollywood Boulevard baby. Home to the more colorful, unsavory residents of L.A. and also the busloads of bewildered foreign tourists checking out the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. A winning combo, if you ask me. I take my super best friend Beckkkyy with me for moral support. We park and check out the local fare. The first store, Tony’s Shoes, is small but packed with what seems to be a good representation of stripper gear. We walk around and in my twinset sweater and Prada bag, I say to the owner Tony that I need some uh….heels. Tony takes one look at me and says “I know what you need. S Factor.” HOLY STILETTOS BATMAN! Did he have my number or what?! I don’t know whether to take it as a compliment that I look too classy to be a stripper or take offense that I look too old and prudish to be a stripper. I choose the former.
I select a pair of silver and clear shoes – to “go with everything.” I am so practical! I do the 5-inchers. I just could not commit to the 6-inch babies. I am 5’9 already barefoot and the thought of looking like Frankenstein towering over the world just doesn’t appeal to me.
We pick up some other “accessories” – after all, Valentine’s Day is coming. We see a few Trannys, a nice gay boy with lips the size of Lisa Rinna and Angelina Jolie combined – a bit scary. We finish our shopping and I tell Becckkkyy (her nickname) to look for me next week on Hollywood Blvd in my new outfit a la PRETTY WOMAN. She says “Yeah okay” rolling her eyes. LOTS of eye rolling in my life! I head home thinking I will debut my new shoes and outfit for my husband that night. Alas, my suburban housewife role kicked in and I spent it falling asleep watching TV on the couch at 10 p.m. (Sigh). But the NEXT night – well, there was a show and my hubby was most pleased.
Class day comes and I get ready. I shower and let my hair go wild. They recommend you leave your hair down. No ballet bun here. I wear shorts. NOT the booty shorts – not ready yet. But I do wear shorts and a tank. Pink of course. I bring my pink leg warmers and heels and head out.
In class, we compare shoes and have a laugh as one girl says she wore her shoes to the mall the day before. She wore long pants to hide them, but did her shopping in those 6-inch black panthers. FAB! We squeeled. We do the usual warm-up and such. I bought knee pads last time and am grateful for the padding as we push back and do the cat stretch. Who cares if I look like roller derby girl? We then learn the “crawl.” I guess you have to crawl before you walk right? We are taught to be like tigers stalking our prey. We then move to the pole (my absolute favorite part) and learn the BALLERINA. You wrap your leg around the pole and then let your body fall as you swing around gracefully. I neither swung, nor was I graceful. I was so nervous, I did a vice-grip of my leg around the pole and needless to say, stayed exactly where I started. The instructor told me to relax and let myself fall. Trust your body. Hmmm…. Okay. I try a few more times and get a little better.
We then are told to put on our heels. We all groan. Here we go.
We do our sexy walk. Then learn a routine. I’m surprised at how good I am. I was expecting to look like a new foal just born learning to walk on its wobbly new legs.
The saucy woman that I am, I decide to keep on my heels and leg warmers to go home and surprise my husband. The ladies are laughing at me, but very supportive. I get home and walk in. My husband is happy. That’s all I’m gonna say.
LADIES – WEAR THOSE DAMN HEELS!! If you are like me, and are no longer going to the clubs and most likely just going to dinner with friends, cocktails and stuff like that, then you have NO EXCUSE not to wear some high-ass heels! You can handle wearing them from the car to a seat my dear. I’m not saying wear them for a two-hour standing room only concert! I have some that have been collecting dust in my closet because I just couldn’t be bothered. Until now. Wear them. Do it now before you are stuck wearing the orthopedic sneakers and compression knee highs. That day will come. The sex kitten heels will make you walk slow. They make you stand up straight. And they make you feel uber SEXY.