Hot People Wear Stilettos and Shresses?

Ok - so I was innocently making my way to the very last debate meeting of my university career (I know what you're thinking, but nerds can be hot. This is a whole 'nother post). It is awards season on campus, and I imagine some faculty of hot people (like kinesiology or public relations) was giving out their pats on the back last night. Well...on my way to nerd central I found myself in a herd of girls in high heels and dresses so short they would still be suitable for a relatively comprehensive anatomy lesson.

Although most of these girls look like what I've wanted to look like since I was a tiny, tiny zygote, I question whether it is imperative for hot people to wear high heels and shresses. Because if it's a requirement, then I might have to pack it in right now.

I actually physically cannot wear high heels. I don't think the fates want me to. Here's a story (in five parts - well, actually three): When I was six, I remember watching Mary Martin's Peter Pan. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, I definitely suggest you watch it (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbQqH3c_Uwg). You might notice that it is obvious that she's being held up by some elaborate rope and pulley system. It was not obvious to my six-year-old eyes. Knowing that fairy dust is the means by which children get their bodies into the air, I asked Santa for some fairy dust (asking Santa never goes wrong - see Red Ryder BB Gun). Obviously, Santa couldn't just give me a vial of fairy dust, though - he'd have to disguise it or everyone would want some - in the bottle of perfume I found in my stocking. So, armed with my complete conviction that I had a bottle of fairy dust-infused perfume, I doused myself in it, donned my little brother's magician's cape (we had a bizarre childhood, he and I), and leaped from the top bunk of our bed with the firm belief that I would, in seconds, be floating through the air with the greatest of ease. Instead I merely fell the five or so feet from the top bunk - directly onto my ankle. The resulting EXTREME pain was fate's way of telling me that my feet were meant to be firmly on the ground, not elevated some inches above it.

I didn't listen. Every subsequent ankle-turning incident involved a set of shoes that was specifically designed to simulate levitation in some way. One summer, I tumbled down my friend's front steps wearing these:A year or so later, I slipped in my neighbour's icy driveway wearing a similar set of shoes meant for the winter months. This resulted in a sprained knee along with my ankle. I had gone too far and REALLY angered the gods.

This led me to the conclusion that I should tempt fate no more. And really, I don't need to lift myself off the ground any higher than I already am (since I'm 5'8"). Therefore, I only wear high heels of any sort for VERY special occasions.

Surely the abstention from one particular type of shoe does not exclude me altogether from, one day, being a hot, hot mama. Mamas can be hot wearing a pair of cute flats, right? Right?

I'm not even sure I believe myself.

On Shresses:

For the uninformed, shresses are dresses that could easily function as shirts, provided pants were worn beneath them. A reasonably conservative shress is shown here:

Maybe I'm ancient (I could very well be), but I don't think it's necessary to wear clothing that leaves NOTHING to the imagination. Why do people need to know that my vag is literally an inch away from the hem of my dress? Why is it ok that there's even a small possibility that it might come out to say hi to everyone if I dance extra-vigorously one night (or on a platform, or in an elevated cage)? There's also just something a little extra-trashy about the idea that NO CLOTHES need to be removed in order for access to the general vag area to be had. I mean, presumably, if someone has a chance at getting vag access, one could easily remove the vag-covering clothes in a private (or even semi-private) area, thus allowing access only to one person at a time (or two...or whatever - I don't judge - orgies aren't the same as public displays of vag).

Ok - perhaps I'm jealous that I couldn't pull off a shress even if I wanted to - but the principle still applies. And I refuse to wear them on this principle.

So do I have to give up my quest for hotness on principle? We'll see in six months, I guess.