Cat in Heels

Apparently going out to dinner with me is stressful. This week I was scheduled to have dinner with a friend. The night before our dinner my friend posted that she was stressing out about which shoes she was supposed to wear to dinner with me. Really, am I that judgmental? These are "big girl shoes." I assured my friend, via Twitter and text messages throughout the day that she could wear whatever shoes she wanted. We hadn't gotten together for months, and if she wanted to wear one gym shoe and one slipper, I still be happy to see her. I would also probably make fun of her, but that's because it would be funny looking. After work we met up, and true to her word, she was wearing her "big girl shoes." Normally a statuesque blond, she now towered over six feet tall, making any added height I had totally inconsequential. At my best I can get to 5'8", which is her height in flats. The "big girl" shoes she was so proud of? A nude...

This weekend I went out to dinner with my husband a friend to catch up, have a few drinks and hang out. Because I’m incapable of dressing down or bring casual, I was channeling Peg Bundy with a pair of Leopard print capri pants and a black halter top and black sandals. They’re a classic pair of Nine West sandals with a buckle across the toe, three inch heel and ankle strap. I’ve had them forever, and every so often they get dragged out when I’m going somewhere that involves walking but still calls for a stiletto. Like a summer dinner in the neighborhood. A little girl loves these shoes. She has good taste.  As we’re standing outside the restaurant, waiting to be seated, a mother passes by with a little girl in a stroller. She was probably about 2 or 3 years old, and as they approached she stuck her little arm out of the stroller, pointed at my shoes and screamed, “I love your shoes.” As she got closer she said it again, and again. I laughed, exchanged a look with ...