July 16, 2004
I wore a lemon-sherbert yellow skirt, a perfect number with a tiny pleat down the front and a drop-waist bow across the hip.
A black cardigan with a black satin tank top underneath.
And seriously wobbly and perfect fuck-me-these-are-girl-shoes strappy heels.
And it made all the difference.
Clipping along on the bridge over the Thames from Waterloo, my iPod in hand and my high heels smartly smacking the pavement, I noticed it. Stares. A lot of them. Men checking me out, watching my legs as I swiveled up the pavement.
So I decided to see how many of them I could get to smile at me. I would look them right in the eyes as I approached, and I would smile. Half of them would smile back at me, but ironically the other half acted almost embarrassed at being caught checking out my goods, and looked away.
And you know...I started to sway my hips just a bit. Try to set one foot down in front of the other. I perfected the "looking up from under a curl" look. I got smiles and even a few waves from bus drivers, construction workers, nervous-looking businessmen. And I'm no beauty, I'm not stunning...I think it was simply down to the fact that I felt good, ergo I felt I looked good. And maybe self-confidence is the sexiest thing a chick can have (does anyone bottle the stuff? Really?)
But this was something for me. With Soft Cell's extended version "Tainted Love" thumping into my eardrums, I realized that although I hate the weather so much I could wipe out whole villages, although I am a bit depressed and not sure how to handle things...well, at least I still look great in some killer heels.
Tottering into the office in my fabulous shoes and girlie skirt, I felt the banshee kicking in, albeit a banshee with more edge, more spirit. This banshee, instead of just being angry, was sarcastic and not up for any shit. This banshee punched a hole right into me, taking out the dark and grey and filling me up with sass all the way down to my strappy shoes.
And it felt fantastic.
Sally, head of Project Mangement, came up to me.
"Helen," she asks, walking behind me in the way that I hate, where people are standing behind you and able to see everything on your computer screen.
"Oh hi, Sally." I reply, trying to muster a smile. "I didn't know you were here."
"I just got here." she replied, shaking her hair out.
"Ah. Usually I know you're here as you're preceeded by your flying monkeys."
"What?"
"What?"
"What?"
And so it went. Sarcastic Cow banshee was out, and she was briliant.
Pat, another thorn in my side, sent me a stroppy email. I replied with blinding sarcasm but answered the questions that were put to me. Pete, a guy in our group who was cc:ed on the mail, came running up to me.
"That was brilliant!" he crowed. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing, it's just every moment I spend having to deal with Pat is like having a Cesaerean section! I just want to tell him that I solved my action points, case closed, he can suck my rubber monkey butt."
Pete blinked, unused as he was to being around me when I take nouns and adjectives and twist them to my own evil devices, and then started laughing.
At the end of the day, I strode out of the building to a humid steambath. London had been drenched in a mid-afternoon downpour, and I stepped out onto the pavement, a soggy forgotten cigarette butt splitting beneath the toe of my strappy shoe. The air was thick with rain, and I felt it reach into my hair like a fistful and turn my hair into curls within minutes. I was glad the rain was finished, I needed the 20 minute walk to Waterloo, and I popped my iPod back in my ears again and clip-clopped my way to the station.
After arriving at my home station, I get off the train and see a familiar grinning face, my man decked out in a red striped shirt and grey shorts. I emerge out of the throng of departing passengers and head straight for him, and when I reach him he picks me up and twirls me around while I rain kisses on his face.
"Hi! Did you know I got lots of looks today? How does it feel to know that you have a cute girlfriend?" I ask, looking down onto his lovely mug.
"I already knew that one." he replies, and kissing me he puts me down and takes me home, to a house smelling of baked potatoes and lemonade, a house that would be wifi-working by the end of the evening, prompting a celebratory glass of wine and a good shag before bed.
The shoes are off now, my feet are up, and they aren't in any pain at all from being strapped into heels. And I tell you-I see the heels coming out again sometime in the very near future.
-H.
PS-Happy birthday to Tiffani and happy early birthday to Kat!
PPS-Wish me luck-Melissa is arriving tonight and Jeff is back with us tomorrow...after a barbecue with Mr. Y's family...
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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