Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

TO THE MARKET IN HEELS
I’ve always admired women who can wear heels. Not just wear them, but actually function in them all day, everyday. I’ve never much cared for shoes (or bags), but two years ago I developed an unexplained shoe fetish. I was in an outlet mall and saw a pair of black pumps that were $10. The store was closing its doors for good, and the sales lady informed me that the future of the pumps was unknown. They were nothing spectacular, about a 1.5 inch heel, with little round studs that outlined the shoe, and a small flap on the toes that was decorated. For some reason, I could not bring myself to leave the store without those shoes. They’ve sat in my closet for two years, with not much occasion to wear them. The one time I wore them shortly after buying them, I was called out to cover a horrible story about a little boy who had been buried and killed under a mountain of dirt as his father was preparing the land to build a family home on. Traipsing through an acre of freshly turned dirt, in the middle of summer, was not a good way to break them in.
So, alas, they have sat neglected. Until now.
I watch out my window and see dozens of women walking down 17th Avenue everyday in heels. I’ve heard that walking in heels is very good for your legs, thighs and buttocks, but I lack the finesse of these heel aficianados. I feel like a bull stumbling through a china shop whenever I have to walk more than 20 feet in them. But being determined that I am to become a true Urbanite, I decided to give them another go. I doffed my sneakers and donned my heels, and marched across the street (a little unsteadily) to the local market to pick up some milk. It was brutally painful at first, until I got my stride right. Turns out slouching is virtually impossible, and I was forced to pull my shoulders up straight, pull my stomach in and align my posture to its maximum efficiency. Then the walking became easier. I felt more confident. I felt prettier, maybe even sexier, as I strolled the market and purchased my milk.
And I’ve officially added “heel walking” to my daily exercise routine. Today I donned my tight jeans, my super cool leather jacket and my heels, and strutted myself around the neighborhood, just for the fun and exercise of it. Already my legs feel tight, my buns are sore and my strutting attitude is increasing.

DINNER IN THE HOBBIT KITCHEN
I am not a gourmet cook. And up until tonight I have had no qualms with my tiny kitchen that is literally the size of a closet. The stove has two small burners, a miniature sink and shelves that go to the ceiling. I’ve managed to quite comfortably prepare my tuna casserole, bologna sandwiches or oatmeal in the tiny little hobbit space, but this evening, after having finally purchased groceries, I attempted to cook a full meal in the closet kitchen. And of course to accommodate my miniature cooking space, and having only to cook for myself, I purchased a single sized frying pan and pot, and own exactly one plate, one bowl and two cups.
It was obvious when I broke out the long awaited box of Hamburger Helper, that I did not have adequate cooking gear to prepare the entire box at once. So I split the ingredients in half, proud of myself for solving the problem. However, I did not factor in the grease splatter factor in such a small space, and after browning the hamburger I was faced with having to wipe down the entire kitchen closet. Mixing the sauce turned out to be problematic, as most of the herbs and spices remained in the bottom half of the mixture, which, I’m hoping, will make for a better second round of Hamburger Helper tomorrow night.
There was much shuffling of the pot, the pan, and the utensils, and disaster nearly struck when I almost dumped the whole thing down the drain as I was trying to balance it on the 4 inch wide space of counter while I dished it up.
The salad however, was a breeze. I simply opened the box of fresh green mixture that I purchased pre-prepared, and dumped some of it onto my plate, which, I realized too late, was also covered in grease. So, my next purchase at the dollar store will be either a lid or a splatter cover. The meal turned out well in the end, and I felt like a true Urbanite as I sat in front of my window, looking at the city lights, and eating my hard worked for dinner.

April 22, 2011 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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