I
was hiking in the desert
on the edge of Tucson one day when two gorgeous and bored looking
models on stilettos tottered onto the trail with a cameraman for a
photo shoot. It was funny, incongruous, over 105 degrees, and I badly
lusted for one pair of the shoes. I realized that those high heels
were a metaphor for coming of age, something that may have taken me
longer to do than most people—that you start out in this perfect
state, get scraped up and sunken in sand along the way, and if you
make it out of the process intact, someone lucky will get to take you
home.
