Posted by: hellonhairylegs | April 15, 2009

One Day

One day, they told me, with the assurance of those passing down common sense to the unschooled, one day you will fall in love with a man and have his children. One day. I believed them.

One day, they told me, you will be able to walk in high heels without falling over. I saw my mothers feet, painted and gnarled, and I did not make the connection. I believed them.

One day, they tell me, you will be beautiful. You will grow up, fill out, diet, change your hair, change your face and then what? They do not tell me what happens next, beyond a fuzz of happiness and achievement. Do I reach the pinnacle of of my existence? Reach the point of critical hawtness and implode, leaving dazed men in my wake?

I no longer believe.

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Responses

  1. As a kid, I was remarkably confident that I could, and would, have children. My children.
    Having any kind of partner (male or otherwise) simply did not feature in this rather fixed idea of mine, and even basic sex ed. did nothing to convince me otherwise. Which is strange, because I’m not at all christian, and don’t believe in virgin births!

    Um, I think the moral of this anecdote is that my reaction is pretty much “what do you mean, *his* children?! I shall have them all by myself!” *tosses head contemptuously*

  2. Liberation starts here.

  3. I really liked the first proper heels I bought to go to my cousin’s wedding, when I was 15. Then I put them on and wore them around a botanical garden and they absolutely caned my feet. I thought ‘no way am I doing heels ever again’. I have had various high heeled shoes in the twelve years since, usually worn only if I can wear them sitting down for 99% of an evening.

    I have no idea how women can wear heels to, say, work and walk around all day in them. EVERYONE says ‘Oh you get used to it’* but I never, ever have!

    The sad bit is that now I look back and 15 for your first outing in heels seems v. old compared to, I swear, the 6 year olds I see teetering around the place in ridiculous kiddy mules and heels. Arghhhh.

    *in fact a colleague wearing three inch mules said it to me again yesterday. NO YOU DO NOT get used to them, you’re just telling yourself that.

  4. […] Hellonhairylegs we have One Day, a post on what we’re told as children will make us happy as adults. Andra of Andragy says a lot […]

  5. When I was seven, one of my grandmothers had to have surgery to straighten her toes after a lifetime of high heels. The other grandmother couldn’t put her feet flat on the floor anymore and had to wear heels at all times. The high heels lie was one that I never believed. Of course, I was told all the other “when you grow up” stories on the condition that I lose weight and then my life would begin, so my scepticism had to begin early!

  6. Surgery? This is a crazy world, can you imagine what the aliens must think?

    Good for you lilac, it took me years to understand why my mother’s feet were like that. I thought it was just something that happened to women naturally as they aged.


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