ickis.com / Julene Horowitz

In all my glamzonian glory, I’ve never had any desire to wear heels (until recently.) I’m already taller than most of the attractive dudes out there; I feel like adding those 4+ inches is only going to make everyone more uncomfortable. Plus, there’s a small problem–I am completely incapable of walking while wearing heels. Sure, I can sit down and point my toes in an effort to really elongate my leg, but once I start to walk across a room it’s pretty obvious I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.

It’s not for lack of trying on my part–I’ve marched through my house in them for hours, going up and down the stairs trying not to break my ankle while swaying my ass seductively. All that practice and I never make it past the front door in them.

I’ve worn heels in public once, ever. It was the longest night of my life. The experience can easily be recounted: awkward, looming, giantess Julene frightened the. I tripped both up and down a flight of stairs and some dude called me a “huge bitch” a la Deuce Bigolo: Male Gigolo. Thanks to him I will forever equate my time in heels to that one particular scene. That movie really sucked, by the way.

When I look at photos of a girl in a pair of stilettos or cute little ankle booties it’s hard not to admire what those little footsy death traps can do to improve a girl’s shape from the waist down. But fuck man… they’re so uncomfortable. Besides, the average dude is weirded out enough by the fact that we’re close in height. Few guys have a desire to spend a night out with their lady when she’s towering over them by several inches–and I’m okay with that. When I think of dudes that want to see me in heels, BDSM gimps are the first thing that come to mind. That’s not the stuff dreams are made of.

I spent years thinking that maybe it was something I would adjust to; an acquired taste like wine or Indian food. Except it’s not: I’ve worn them around the house for hours on end and never come any closer to feeling like anything other than a newborn deer while wearing them.

I don’t want to give up on you, heels. I know that 2010 will not be the year of stilettos… but I refuse to allow it to be a year of wife beaters and Chucks (an apparently loathsome dress-down habit of mine) either. That’s why I’m thinking of buying these Dolce Vita black booties:

These are the make-me or break-me heels. If I can’t walk in these, I’m giving up and wearing flats for the rest of my life. Cross your fingers I figure out how to walk in these little black death traps without breaking my ankle. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll let you guys all sign my cast.

When I was a little girl there was this book I made my mom read so many times she knew it cover to cover by heart, and can still recite it from memory to this day. The book was Suzie Goes Shopping, a real childhood literature gem I assure you. If you have children, do not read it to them because if they are weird like me they will form a deep seated attachment to it.

Real talk: in this book this little girl piggie is going shopping for her mom & picks out all this delicious stuff (like pie and muffins and other carb-ridden goodies) that she’s going to buy. Except her mom only gave her $1 and instructed her to buy a loaf of bread. Right now I see these white leather extremely limited edition Converse and I think to myself, “fuck me, I want those.” And in the back of my head I hear, “but Julenie did not have $150 to spend frivolously, she had $15 and plans to go to the museum.”

You have to admit, they are fucking gorgeous. Not to mention they go on sale tomorrow… ugh! (I wear a size 7 mens, potential benefactors.)