I always like making an ass out of myself if it means more attention. (It’s a middle-child thing.) At Men’s Health, I’ve starred in woefully misguided rap videos, pitched dumb business ideas to the Shark Tank crew, and roamed the streets shouting the names of sex toys at strangers, all loosely in the name of journalism.
So when my friends at Women’s Health put out the call for a male editor to be a guinea pig for their latest social experiment, I naturally obliged. My mission: Wear women’s high heels for a day and see what happens.
How hard could that be? I’ve had to learn how to ride a bike, drive a car, and tolerate broccoli, so I could easily make a few adjustments to my stride. Sure, there would be some awkward steps and stumbles, but worst-case scenario, I’d emerge from the experiment with beastly calves.
The first matter: securing a slick pair of shoes. I couldn’t find any female takers around the office to let me borrow their heels—I can’t imagine why—and my dubious wife’s feet were far too tiny. Admittedly, I balked at going to a Payless by myself to try on heels because a man can only shed so much dignity.
So after comparing men’s and women’s sizes (I’m a men’s 10.5), WH took a shot in the dark and sent over a size-12 pair of midnight blue "Christian Sirianos" from Payless (sounds fancy!), sight unseen. Then came the ultimate test: Did they fit? I crossed my fingers, rolled up my jeans, snuck in my toes, and hoped for the best. Immediately, I knew: HELL, YEAH, THEY FIT.
The gamble had worked, and there was no turning back.
The next morning, I left my trusty loafers in the closet and slapped on the Sirianos over a pair of black wool socks. My female friends would later tell me this was a fashion faux-pas, but the socks looked just fine to me.
