When I was a child I walked like a doof.

I have memories of my mother telling me to walk like a princess. The most vivid, specific memory I have of this happened as we were walking into church. I was four or five years old at the time. I don't remember exactly what I was wearing, but I'm sure it was a flouncy dress with ruffled socks and tiny mary janes. I do remember the frustration and annoyance I felt, and also the determination.

I had a habit of flitting about on my toes, only occasionally using my heels, and only after my toes had already hit the ground. Ma took great pains to assure me that princesses didn't walk like that. It was apparently well known that a princessly stride always went from heel to toe and that walking heel to toe was the mark of a true princess. I was determined to be a princess, however silly I considered their walk.

(Had I been smart I could have simply changed my ambitions from princess to fairy. Fairys are supposed to flit about. There would have been no need to change my walk.)

After much berating and bribing and frustration on both our sides, Ma no longer had to chide me with reminders to "walk like a princess." I walked heel to toe without being told.

As I grew older and my feet grew larger, and thus more capable of annoying noises, it became obvious I hadn't developed the the graceful, womanly walk Ma had hoped for. Instead, my walk was more akin to a heel-splat, heel-splat. I suppose it's not that surprising my walk turned out that way since walking heel-toe was a deliberate act for me. There's a lot of foot between the heel and the toe. How else can you walk heel to toe unless you aim for the toe with everything you have in you?

Heel-splat, heel-splat.

I remember various times through my junior high, high school, and college years when my mother encouraged me to walk less with a heel-splat and more with a heel-roll off the foot. I didn't pay much attention. I wasn't bothered by my splatty way of walking. There was also a sense of justice in my mother disliking my walk. It came about due to her persistent meddling, after all.

This past winter, working off the theory that if I develop a better walk I'll have a better run, I spent a few days here and there concentrating on walking with less splattiness. I didn't seem to achieve much more than tired, achy legs. Since I wasn't consistent or frequent about it, I figured these rare days of concentrating on my walk hadn't done anything.

That is until yesterday, when I wore heels instead of boots for the first time in months. I can say without a doubt that I walk differently now than I did several months ago, though I'm sure it's not enough to be noticeable.

However insignificant the change in my walk is, it's apparently significant enough to require learning to walk in heels all over again. I tried to fall out of my heels nearly half a dozen times in the four hours I was wearing them, and most of that time I was sitting.