metalspikes

New pic. Got an 8 rating so far but only 14 votes Think they're looking at the shoes?

Your shoes, however, are barely visible because 1) black does not contrast well against the dark carpet and black weights; 2) they are near the bottom of the frame; 3) the shape of the pump tends to blend into the shape of the weight set (visual complexity about equal, so that there is not much contrast there, either); and 4) heels are so incongruous to your story as a body builder for those of your viewers who are not hhplace members that many of your viewers will just screen them out.

If you want to try an experiment and can have another photograph made, try the same exact pose in the same exact place, but with the following changes: 1) wear bright red pumps (colorwheel opposite to the green of your weight room), also with stiletto heels; 2) wear a matching red tank T-shirt (connects your body to the shoes) but wear the same blue jeans (which will go very well with bright red); 3) lay a single round weight flat on the floor and rest your foot on that, or turn the weight set end-on to the camera (or perhaps at an angle so the viewer can see the shaft sticking out the end of the weight), so that the round shape of the weight contrasts against the shape of your shoe; 4) paint the weight(s) you rest your foot on a steel gray to match the Nautilus machine in the background, or borrow some weights covered in gold plastic (to highlight your bright red pumps), either which will contrast against the dark carpet; and 5) turn the camera so that the frame is vertical so that you can get both feet in the picture, and to put more focus on you and a little less on your weight room. Then, post that to Hot or Not and see what happens.

By the way, apart from the question about whether people are looking at your shoes, this is the most flattering and effective photo I've seen you in, Johnie, and tells in a most compelling way the story of a happy guy who really enjoys being a body builder.

What a great story, this is a keeper...

egroeg99 said...

This is an original story of mine:

An Easy Fifty, by Man in Heels

"Lose a bet?"

It was Saturday morning and I was sitting alone in the coffee shop reading the morning paper.

I was dressed casually: jeans, pullover sweater, and black Mary Janes with 4 inch block heels and dark socks.

"Hey buddy."

Realizing he was talking to me I looked up and saw a 20 something male who was dressed similarly to me, except he was wearing dirty white athletic shoes.

"Huh?"

He pointed to my shoes and carefully enunciated, "I said, did you lose a bet?"

I looked down at my shoes, compared them to his (and every other man I had seen that day), and realized what he was trying to say.

"No, no. I don't need a bet. I wear what I want to." I pointedly looked back down at my paper, hoping to end the conversation.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm really curious as to why you're wearing high heels."

I sighed and motioned him to sit down at the seat across the table from me.

He smiled and reached his hand out, "Bob Weaver."

"Nick Foller."

"You see Nick, I walks into this here restaurant and I was in line waiting. I looks over and sees this nice pair of shoes when everybody else is wearin' sneakers. I'm wondering if the rest of her is as classy as her feet and follow the legs up. Well, what to my surprise, but she's got a flat chest, short hair, and a mustache. I says to myself, 'Robert, this guy don't look at all like a fag. Maybe he gotta wear them lady's shoes 'cause of a bet.'"

I mentally counted to 10 while thinking up lost bet paybacks that should be enforced upon him. "Ok, first of all two things you should know."

"Uh, huh."

Knowing the redundancy would go over his head, I explained, "First of all, men who are regular heel wearers are almost 100% straight, heterosexual, and not gay. Second, they're not a lady's shoes, their mine."

Starting to get into the redundancy, I finished up, "Bought, purchased, remunerated, and paid for."

Sounding like he really meant it, Weaver said, "Sorry, I should of known. But why do you wear them, then? I mean you don't have to 'cause you're not one of them, and, I didn't mean it like it sounded. I mean don't they hurt your feet?"

Letting his fixation on sexuality go, I explained, "Did you ever wonder why men's shoes are all so the same? Black, brown, or white, with maybe a pair of navy blue socks to liven things up. I once wondered too and decided to find out.

"Well, since there's nothing in our genetic makeup or bodily mechanics that controls compatibility with shoe color, I decided to try some other colors."

Apparently the compatibility thing was confusing him, but I continued forward. "A couple years ago, I went into a shoe store and started looking around and decided to try a pair of shoes just like what I'm wearing today."

"Didn't they think you were weird or something?"

"I thought of that, too," I smiled and went on, "You'll like this -- I told the clerk I had lost a bet."

He laughed out loud at this, and I couldn't help chuckling myself.

"When I tried them on, I really felt different. Tall, cool, ready to take on the world, then when a nice looking lady came up to me and said she thought I looked great in heels, I was hooked."

He said, "Like a drug?"

"Uh, no. Just a figure of speech. You know, like, well I just liked how they looked and felt. I bought them, and now most of my shoes have heels. As long as they fit right, they don't hurt."

I looked down, sizing up his feet. "Looks like you're about size 10 like me."

"Nine and a half. What about it."

I slipped off one of my shoes and motioned towards it. "Here, go ahead and try it."

"Naw, them's lady's shoes."

"No, remember I told you, they're mine. Look, nobody will see or care, the place is practically empty."

He said, "Not on a bet," but didn't sound very resolved.

Smiling, I said, "You sure about a bet? Ten bucks says you won't put it on."

As I laid a ten on the table, he slipped off his sneaker and nervously shoved his foot into the mary jane on the floor.

This time I held up fifteen dollars and motioned to the other, now vacant, shoe on the floor. "Five more says you won't put on the other one and another ten to stand up and take a couple steps."

Well, you could have fooled me. Not only did he put the other shoe on, but he stood up and walked completely around the table. I was impressed, he really walked well, too.

He sat down, didn't immediately take the shoes off, but scooped up the money. "Uh, what was your name, Nick? I can't believe it, but I like them. You were right, tall, cool, and tough. Where'd you get..."

Before he could finish asking where I bought them, A female voice interrupted us, "Robert?"

He looked up very surprised with his face rapidly turning white said, "Hi Peg. Nick, meet my girlfriend, Peg. Uh Peggy, this is Nick who I was just talkin' to. We were, uh..."

Peggy pointed to his feet. "Bob, those shoes look great on you! Why haven't I seen them before? You really ought to wear them more often."

Looking very confused he started to stammer, "P-p-peg. I, uh, well, you see..."

Peg motioned her head towards the counter. "Wait, let me get my coffee."

As soon as she left, Bob pulled out his wallet and quietly, but urgently said, "How much? How about fifty?"

"For the shoes? And my twenty-five back?"

Peggy was starting back to the table.

Bob dug into his wallet, "Ok, ok. Seventy-five. And keep the sneakers."

He handed me a wad of bills under the table as she settled back into her chair. Before she could say anything, I said to her, "Bob here was telling me how he always thought men's shoes were boring and one day decided to try those as an experiment. He probably didn't know how to tell you because you might think him strange."

Peggy looked at Bob and said, "No, I don't think you're strange at all. Any man masculine enough to wear heels in public is OK by me."

I stood up in Bob's hideous sneakers. "Peggy, Bob, I've got to go. Maybe I'll stop across the way at Snazzy Feet and pick up a pair, too."

As I was walking out, I heard Peggy say, "I didn't think you'd ever wear heels, even on a bet. Let's see how you walk."

The End.

11.4.07

I found that most curious, TBG. Given all your outings, I would have thought that after all this time, complacency is pretty much second nature to you, like breathing.

I mean, it takes a hell of a lot of gumption to wear thigh boots in the first place, especially at this time of year when it's hot as blazes. Still, I understand the importance of being aware of your surroundings and the people in them, I do the same, but I don't stand out in pumps partially hidden by long pants as you do, being exposed for the world to see in your boots. That's why I admire you so much for being so bold in your public heeling.

i know what ure saying, ive had pisstaking too, fortunately no physical abuse, so i realise it dents yr confidence.

Fortunate, indeed. I have survived physical abuse, and have known other survivors of even more than I've had. And I knew one beautiful person who checked out early because it all was more than she could take...

I am a very lucky man.

I want to buy her a whole room full of high heels!

It sounds like she is a very lucky woman, as well.

One thing I have noticed is that I expend a lot of energy paying attention to what/who is around me when I’m wearing thigh boots in public especially if it’s someplace new (or the people are unknown). Seems like I work harder at not being complacent than I had realized. By the time I get home, I’m really tired and walking on heels isn’t the cause. I’m mentally exhausted.

That may be part of the cost of wearing thigh boots in public but like my grandmother used to say, “If you want to dance, you have to pay the fiddler”.

they all do and "whatever" if they dont like it! If u are a cardboard cutout u wont get anywhere in life, be yrself !! Think about it, those who stand out from the crowd get noticed as theyve got the bollox to be themselves and not conform. Watch anyone in the fashion and entertainment business!! Go 4 it!

I should also point out that some people have much more history, and many more hurdles to overcome, before they can become strong enough to stand up and face the "music." It has precious little to do with anatomy. For some people, saying that they don't have the bollox to stand up and come out of hiding makes about as much sense as saying that a paraplegic doesn't have the bollox to stand up and walk. There are more ways to find oneself on one's back than to be laid up in hospital, and the wounds and scars that don't show up on medical scans that are sometimes the most difficult to heal. I am grateful that there is more support than scorn ("stand up and be a man" and other such stereotypes) on this board for those who still have a ways to go to get there.

Most of my family has no tolerance whatsoever. My parents knew I was wearing heels when I was a child, and shamed the crap out of me about it. I was driven to wear them out doors, because I wanted the acceptance-- it was too dangerous to do it during the daytime (too much homophobia in that time and place, too much risk of people reacting violently), so I did it at night. On one occasion I was arrested and my parents called out of bed to come retrieve me at 2:00 AM. Things like this prompted my mum to scream at me once "Do you want the kids from your school to come stand under your bedroom window and chant 'J--- wears women's shoes, J--- wears women's shoes!'?"

My Mum knows that I currently crossdress. Her remark on the subject was "I understand that it is incurable (!!), but I don't want to see you that way!" Though she is a licensed cosmetologist, she refuses to teach me anything about hair care. I think the only reason she leaves me alone about my fingernails now is because I've walked away from her and stopped talking to her for several years, and she knows I will do it again if she starts in with the hyper-criticism again.

As far as I know my father doesn't know about my crossdressing, and I am certain that he would not be able to accept it (or me). As for my heel wearing as a child, it never gets mentioned in conversation, if he even thinks of it at all-- it may well have been swept into the back recesses of his mind.

I never had much acceptance at all. I was constantly pressured by some of my family to cut my hair. Both my father (who usually says nothing about it) and his sister (my aunt) have expressed concern over the length of my hair, thinking that it would be repulsive to women. The last time my father expressed that, I said "Women like long hair on a guy. No, I take that back-- they love it." All I got was a thoughtful "Hmmmm..." (at least he sounded like he might've been willing to reconsider his stereotypes).

The only person in my family who at least says that she accepts my crossdressing is my mom's sister (my mom of course had to blab it to her, and she had to blab it to her daughter, my cousin-- that's how it got back to me). I wonder how she will respond if I get the chance to show her the boots I bought with some money she gave me...

So, for all practical purposes, I have no acceptance or support in my family for "freestyle" fashions, and a heavy dose of shaming and brainwashing to overcome. When it comes to cleaning up the legacy of my past and gaining my freedom of self-expression, the issue of being able to wear heels in public is small stuff. I think the toxic waste dump I've been left with could qualify both as a Superfund cleanup site and for FEMA disaster relief.

I seem to remember he refered to himself as the fastest crossdresser on two wheels!

Nigel.

a guryl's got to make the most of every chance she gets. Hasn't she???

I had an enjoyable outing this afternoon.

...

I've worn boots out in public a little bit now-- so far, so good (will maybe write about that later, elsewhere). Wore my new tiger-striped metal stiletto heels to a discount clothing chain (Ross Dress for Less) yesterday morning, but chickened out:unsure:, went down to my car, and put my trainers back on (there were no negative reactions, it was just a bit too much exposure this early in the game). I'm not worried though, I'll get comfortable with it all eventually.

Metalspikes -

A 5” heel is just about my limit.

Me too, and especially if I am to be on my feet for any length of time. I've had experience with only one pair from Leatherworks, but I have to say that they are so well balanced that at 5.5" they are easier to walk in than some 4" heels I've tried.

I really prefer leather boots over man made materials and I have never been a fan of the two toned styles.

The needle point on the heel would also give me problems since I walk a lot on hardwood floors.

Mmmmm... To quote an oft-repeated comment on this board, "Why should the women have all the fun?" They don't seem to have any problems with wearing their metal spikes anywhere they like!

I’m Ok with the height of the boots and kind of neutral on the side lacing. I think I would prefer either front or back rather than side.

And then there is the price... there a little lout of my range.

Tell me about it... That is the major impediment to my ordering, like, about 2/3rds of their range. Our current miserable exchange rates don't help matters much, either...

Another pet peeve of mine would be lace up shoes with a damned zipper. Hell, there are laces, why add a zipper ?

Example:

http://www.newrockstore.com/zona3/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=18_1&products_id=170

I love that model, but why the hell had they to add a damned zipper ?

I always thought the term "Indian giver" referred to the white government who gave what they thought was worthless to the American Indians, then took it back when it turned out to be valuable.

I don't much care for "stripper" platforms either, whether they be on the clear acrylic "units," or on opaque ones. My pet peeve are extremely poor quality "cheap" heels of any kind-- they are actually dangerous, because their arches are too weak and flimsy for even everyday wear. I suffered a severely sprained ankle when the arch collapsed on one pair I was wearing.

As for the clear "Cinderella slippers," I really pine for the gorgeous ornate designs started by Beth Levine in the 1950's and 60's. I have one pair of those that are no longer wearable, that I keep around just to show to people. I've already taken a complete set of photographs, and will write an article about them for the vintage fashion forum...I promise...eventually...some day...

I'm a part time crossdresser too, and my wife of 37 years has a hard time coming to terms with that , she thinks it's all "disgusting".

Ouch! That hurts...

We're remain very happily married because the rest of our life together is brilliant and we love one another too much to let this issue drive us apart.

Doesn't stop me trying to get her to understand that it really is an integral part of me, and is not a threat to our relationship.

Dr Shoe and Guy N. Heels,

You may be right, but I get so little time to wear heels (see above) that I cannot build up to it gradually, and I really have a strong desire to wear the highest heels I can walk in. Wearing 5" stilettoes really pushes my buttons, and I'm sure many of you here know what I mean!

Metalspikes,

For a 63 year old (today!),

Happy, happy Bday! and many, many more.

I probably exercise my leg muscles more than most. I work out with a personal trainer (shared with my wife) twice a month, and run at least twice a week. The calf muscle pain is similar to what I experience in various muscle groups about 2 days after a gym work-out, so I expect it's the effect of lactic acid. Wearing my 5" heels for 6 hours has probably exercised my calf muscles in a different way.

Most of the time I was walking about (not just standing), changing (female) clothes and walking to and from the camera to set up another pose. I did find out that ironing my bedclothes and making up my bed at the end of the session was when I noticed the sore soles, and had to take a couple of rests by sitting down for 10 minutes before continuing, but I suppose you more regular heel wearers are aware of that

That is enough to stress out the muscles of even experienced heel wearers. Yes, one needs sit down and take a break every now and again.