At five feet four inches, I feel somewhat vertically challenged.  I suppose that's why I have been so drawn to three-inch heels.  I have to ask myself, though, is it because I want to be noticed by men or is it because I want women to envy me?  The question applies to all women who submit to being tortured by the fashion industry.

    The fashion extremes that women have endured over the ages are puzzling.   From waists so constricted they must surely do damage to internal organs, to bustles that severely restrict normal movement, to corsets that redefine one's natural shape, women have continued to endure this self-inflicted suffering.

     As editor of Vogue magazine, Anna Wintour certainly bears some responsibility.  While I respect the creativity behind the design of a Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik shoe, some common sense is called for.  Shoes with such high heels must surely put stress on the body, and young women are being led to purchase such footwear by fashion magazines such as Vogue.

    You have to wonder if there is a conspiracy involving the fashion industry and chiropractors.  Tottering around in extreme heels must surely throw the spine out of its natural alignment.  Even a strict regimen of Yoga and strength training cannot completely offset the harmful effects of a pair of heels so high they tend to cause vertigo in the wearer.

    A few years ago, I had a female boss who wore three-and-a-half-inch heels--every day.  At five feet eight and a quarter, that put her close to six feet tall.  She was fond of leaning over me as she screamed in my face.  This company I worked for put out a weekly safety report.  One such report related an incident of a woman employee who was injured when she fell off her high heels.  I'm sure this never happened.  It was just a case of the male managers having a bit of fun at the expense of the female employees.  I imagine it gave them quite a chuckle.

    That was the day I made up my mind that I was no longer going to submit to this form of self-inflicted suffering.  I try to limit myself to less than two inches of heel height--most of the time.  At five feet four inches, I may not be statuesque.  I may not look like a model.  I may not draw attention.  But you know what?  I'm damned cute.  And if you try to tell me that you're comfortable in your spikey heels, I have only this to say.  You are lying in your teeth.   I, for one, have fallen off my high-heeled shoes--permanently.