Then the Good Doctor suggested to me that perhaps the problem was my “Barbie Feet”, or, in other words, feet whose heels don’t touch the ground. Ever.
Against my better fashion judgement, I hauled out from the back of my Shoe Museum (aka, my closet), my pair of MBT Sneakers that I bought about a year ago, that I wore once or twice and then never again. Just too ugly, I thought. There was, simply, no way around the ugly.
Or so I thought. Until I realized that my Pasasana was suffering…
Worship at the altar of fashion?
Worship at the altar of asana?
I wore my MBT’s into the city on Wednesday, inauspicious day that it was. A close friend who saw me wearing the hideous, spongey monstrosities asked me, “What’s the deal with the clodhoppers?” I explained, with the utmost in patience: “Pasasana requires that I put aside my high heeled shoes for now.” It goes without saying that my explanation fell upon deaf ears and was met with a scathing glance at the aesthetics-offending footwear.
Since Wednesday, I have made a point of either being barefoot, or wearing my MBT’s. And for my effort, I have been rewarded. Today I bound rather easily on both sides in Pasasana, without benefit of wall or rolled up mat. In celebration, I wore some really stylin’ high heeled sandals to dinner tonight in Greenwich.
That transgression aside, I shall continue to limit my time in high heels in the hope that I can eventually put my Barbie heels back down on the ground where they belong.
Twould be nice.