Suffer for beauty

My mom always said “Casey, you have to suffer for beauty.” Usually she said that while she was doing something to my head. She was all about braiding my usually very long hair into Princess Leia buns, Heidi loopy things, or over the top of my head- like the Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate girl. My school pictures are gems. As I was entering junior high, she said it when she pulled my hair into those tiny tight rollers and then poured the acid burning home perm solution on my scalp.

She was right though. I mean, you look at the models on magazines and they’ve suffered plenty. They’ve completely given up eating altogether, surviving on a diet of cigarettes and Evian. Poor poor girls, suffering as they’re fawned over and walk the catwalks in Milan wearing designer clothes costing more than my car made by people I can’t pronounce. I digress. Back to the subject at hand, MY suffering for beauty.

I love shoes. Yesterday (oh, hope you had a nice Easter, by the way) was an exciting day. I got to wear my really super cute 5 inch high heeled white dress shoes that went. I love what those shoes do for my calves (and my height – I’m well over 6’ in those shoes). They’re so cute that even a guy commented on them and men don’t notice anything! Well, as I walked around with cute shoes, painted toe nails, and shapely calves, I was suffering. By the end of 4 hours, I had huge blisters. Oh, but I kept smiling.

This morning, I woke up at 5:30 to hit the gym (another example of that whole “suffering for beauty” thing) and tried to put on my gym shoes. But to no avail. I couldn’t walk in them. I tried for a good five minutes to walk but couldn’t do it without looking like an idiot. So, I gave up on suffering, took off the shoes and went back to bed.