Your BIGGEST EVER High Heel Thrill

[Acin75]

My 3 biggest thrils were: 1) flight from Rio de Janeiro to Paris, and passing the pasport and custom controll in Rio. There a lady custom official seperated me from the rest, and made me take off the heels to run them through the scanner. Later when I put them back on, she smiled and said that she likes my shoes :-) 2) Carnaval in Rheinland where I was dressed as a nurse (see the gallery) and celebrating with some friends from work. The biggest thrill actually were the later comments at work from others. A mixture of disbelife, laughter and respect. The best thing was that it was the women in the company that were really positively supprised and paing me "respect" for dancing, and parting like that. 3) is still to come! :-)

[eoneleg]

Mine was a little different. I put it in the story section a little while back.

Please excuse redundancy.

E

For two months after the accident that broke my left leg in two places, also a hip and pelvis, and shattering my right leg, I was in a cast up to my chest and being able to move only my arms and toes. It was not very pleasant on my back, with cables that suspended the lower part of my legs about a foot above my bed while wondering if I would ever be able to walk normally if at all. We are facing a long road, Anne,” my doctor said, “but I am confident that we will have you on two good legs at the end. I then graduated – not the best term, but still a step up, to only my right leg in a very long cast that started just above my toes and ended way up on my thigh. It took two weeks to rehab my left leg to where it would bear weight and regain movement so that I could get about on crutches. Thanks to my athletic ability and having danced ballet into college, my transition to using crutches was fairly easy. At that point I finally returned to my home. After two weeks I had become very proficient on my crutches and moved about with the grace and ease of a ballerina. A very kind neighbor researched, found, and installed a left-foot accelerator in my Altima, giving me full mobility; being able to get to and from anywhere a non-disabled person would go, even the mall.

I have loved to wear heels since high school and my business attire always included a four and sometimes five inch stiletto heel pump or sandal. I am happy that living in a warm climate, I can also enjoy wearing a sandal year round. At about the time of recognizing that I was an expert on crutches, I got the idea - more of a revelation that I should try a heel on my good foot - the uncasted one.

I was passing my closet one morning when I spotted a favorite pump lying on the floor and beckoning to me to slip it on. I stood there for several minutes debating whether to yield to my curious and daring nature and try it, or surrender to what was preached to me in the hospital by a therapist instructor of “Crutches 101,” that “heels and crutches do not mix.” My curious and daring nature was tugging at me to once again enjoy the four-inch stiletto heel, thin yet sturdy, and in the opinion of some - fashionably hazardous. The toe portion was slightly elongated and pointed, giving a somewhat sleek but definitely feminine appearance. I recalled how the vamp was cut closer than usual to the end to display what was commonly known as “toe cleavage,” revealing the upper portion of the toes. Several times I planted my crutches ahead, the first part of the process of walking away; but stopped, returned my crutches to my side and gazed at the shoe much akin to a child at the window of a candy store, my foot hungering to once again be adorned by a black pump that positively and beautifully accented the curves and contours of my foot and ankle. Curious and daring won out as I tossed the shoe onto the bed, and retrieved a trouser length stocking as I passed a dresser. Slipping the left pump onto my foot felt a little strange in that I had not worn heels since before the accident – a period of about three months in all, but still, it felt good. I did wonder about how long it would be until I could again wear a shoe on my right foot, but that never goal would never be fulfilled. Standing with crutches in place, I experienced the same thrill as when I was a teenager, trying heels for the first time, my mind racing with the negative comments that I had heard over the years about the dangers of wearing heels but still, wanting to experience this phenomenon for myself.

Something that only a devoted heel lover would understand; standing there with my crutches lengthened and in place, looking down at the large cast that served to grab and dominate visual attention, then focusing on the very feminine pump on my good foot; my eyes welled up with tears. Not tears of sadness, but more like tears of joy. My mood at the time was very similar to that of “The Little Engine That Could.” I can do this, I will do this I thought to myself as I planted my trusty crutches ahead by only one foot and with a “here goes anything” attitude, lifted my left foot in its pump and swung through supporting myself by my hands on my crutches, and planting my foot only one foot ahead of my crutch tips, a short step by comparison to what had been my usual stride, but a very important step toward attaining proficiency in the art of crutch walking in a heel. I experienced the same feeling of possibility that the shoe being held in place by a modest vamp over my toes and an equally modest heel cup would fall off of my foot as I did as a teenager. The process felt perilous because of wearing only one shoe and employing two crutches to replace the useless leg. I was on the edge, pushing the envelope of sanity by risking further injury as admonished by the medical community.

Another short step, then another and so on increasing the length of my stride until it matched my stride in a flat shoe. I went into the den through the kitchen enjoying the click that my stiletto heel made on the tile floor. Out into the attached two-car garage where my car was centered giving ample walking room on all four sides.

I returned to the kitchen and enjoyed some lunch with my casted leg outstretched on the high stool next to me at the breakfast bar. I could not resist the urge to cross my good leg over my cast and swing my foot until the pump slid off of my heel and was suspended on my toes. It is commonly referred to as “dangling,” again, something that I have unconsciously done for as long as I have worn heels. Eventually my pump fell free exposing my toes, visible through their hose enclosure, the dark red polish discernible through the black tinted fabric. I held my good foot next to my cast comparing those toes to the ones emerging from the end of my cast and began to realize what some call the sensuality of a broken leg. I now realized that when I was out, at the mall for example, more male heads turned to check me out than female heads. I did not know why, but later I happened on to a web sight that dealt with women wearing leg casts, not for medical, but for recreational purposes. Knowing that I was like the casted models in the photos and videos left me with the feeling that my broken leg might not be so bad after all.

A few days later I returned to work in my usual suit and skirt and a pump similar to the one that I wore during my heel and crutches shakedown. My staff made me feel very welcomed and were not surprised at my choice of footwear.

There are numerous clichés regarding life dealing you a blow and how you handle it is up to one’s self. For me, the simple, by my standards, continuance of my passion for wearing heels – in my case “a” heel, was the first step in my conquering and more importantly overcoming what had been thrown at me.

.

[danielp6406]

Greetings eoneleg :-)

A nice story. Glad to see you still enjoy wearing heels.

I am amazed to read some women are wearing leg casts for recreational purposes !

[raincat]

eoneleg, a beautifully descriptive story, and so well written, too. Thank you for sharing your experience with the readers of this forum.