It was great looking through my photo album recently and sighting one of my oldest sets of heels, a pair of gold studded black 6 inches pumps. It was my first bold move with 6 inches actually. I call it a bold move because I had to fight my way [and faith!] through it.
We were preparing for an ‘Owambe’ weekend in the house and my elder sister flashed the heels in my face and told me they were up for sale. I was totally swiped off my feet, they were gorgeous. Yes, they were pretty expensive for me then, but I did not care. I wanted to have them. I was super excited and started to think of ways to get the money. Then I showed my mum, nothing passes through the home without her ‘fashion’ advice. That was probably a bit of undoing on my part as she instantly screamed in the typical Yoruba-mum voice ‘Derin!! See how high these heels are! Do you want to kill yourself? You can’t walk in these shoes o! Please, don’t break your back. Return them!’
Was I going to return them? I had no idea, but I was definitely not happy that she did not share in my excitement. I couldn’t blame her of course, she was absolutely concerned for me. I was the regular 3-inches girl. How could I go all the way from 3 to 6 just like that? Not even a 5? I slept that night worried and sad. I thought my mum was right, I probably could fall at the party. Of course, I dreamt that I fell, face flat on the floor. Now that was not a good sign, so I told myself I would return the heels. I gave myself an ultimatum. I did not know how to tell my sister ‘no’ but I knew I was going to return the heels. I was probably going to use the price as an excuse, anything at all to get it off my hands.
Did I return the heels? NO! Did I wear them to the party? Very much yes! As a matter of fact, I slayed with a capital ‘S’.
Truth be told, I cannot remember what stopped me from returning them. Perhaps I was stubborn or perhaps I just took a faith loan, all I can remember is my mum telling me how well I walked in the shoes at the end of the party. Funny!
Looking through my album made me realize that I could have still been stuck on the very ‘comfortable’ 3 inches if I had given in to my mum’s ‘caution’ voice and my ‘defeat’ dream. For the records, I have not fallen off my heels and I cannot remember what it’s like nursing such fear. Now don’t think I’m a heels guru, I just know when to sit and stand. Much more, I know that slipping into my heels is not enough, I need to accessorize myself in confidence.
Now there goes you. Getting into those ‘6 inches’ [I do not necessarily mean heels now] is so frightening that it’s gradually turning to a scary dream. Now there’s the tiny overbearing voice of caution that keeps ringing in your head ‘don’t try it. You could fall. You could break your back’. Well, you wouldn’t know what it turns out to be if you don’t try, would you? It’s not just the worst that could happen, even the best could. So stop being one-sided when you ask yourself ‘what’s the worst that could happen’, ask yourself what the best could be as well. I’m a 6-inches conqueror! You should try that too.