This weekend’s Pizza Toppings at Corner Pizza:
- Ground Beef (hamburger)
- Sliced Tomatoes
Okay – it was a hamburger pizza, complete with toppings you might put on one, and I guess it was in honor of Father’s Day this weekend. But it was tasty, and lighter than burgers would have been. And then we went to see Jurassic World.
We had gone to see Jurassic Park, I think (or maybe, with four young kids at home then, we rented it), and I had read that book by Michael Crichton. I had read and heard a little about this film (“it was the same story, basically”), and like Jurassic Park, it was suspenseful and scary. But I enjoyed the earlier film a lot more.
Although – don’t get me wrong. I’m as glued to the screen when I see (fake) dinosaurs gobble up people as the next person is. The story line was clever enough, and the little bit of dialogue was okay. But the thing that got me thinking the most was, how did that woman run so far, so long, and so fast in high heels?
A lot has been written recently about the same issue, and before I saw the film, I read the New York Times article Science Weighs in on High-Heels. But until I watched the heroine in action, I forgot about what I’d read. Then, I saw the actress wearing them early in the movie. And I kept waiting for her to take them off, especially after another character pointed them out to her.
But she didn’t – at least, I saw her still wearing them, at the end. If a movie (or book) calls for it, I’m happy to engage in the willing suspension of disbelief for the sake of the story, but I must say that in this instance, I had a hard time with it.
Who runs in high heels, anyway? If I were her and a dinosaur were chasing me, kicking off those heels would have been the first thing I’d have done. I do wear heels (and flats), and the last time I wore heels and regretted not taking them off was a couple of years ago, when I danced for too long at a wedding. My feet and ankles ached for days afterward, and I learned my lesson. I don’t really know why I kept them on that night, but I suspect it was the combination of vanity (I had just bought those shoes) and champagne.
In any case, back to the movie, and to the pizza. My husband seemed to enjoy both, and I don’t think he noticed the high heels marathon – he didn’t remark about it. He rarely takes note of what size heels I wear (even though he’s only a few inches taller than me), but once, he did marvel that I had packed four pairs of beige (nude) shoes of various heel height on weeklong trip to Texas and California. I smiled then and took it as a compliment.
Today, I’m off to a book signing at The Book Worm Bookstore in Powder Springs, Georgia, along with two other authors. I wasn’t sure whether to wear heels or flats, so I compromised. I’m wearing the heels and taking the flats along in case I need them.
But I won’t be running!
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