Memoirs of a Frustrated Singer-“Heels”

She put her bags down on the chair. You would think they would at least have a room to store your personal stuff and not just instrument bags. Whatever. She thought, shaking her head. She looked inside her bag at the heels she had brought and then at the black flats she was wearing on her feet. Technically she could pull off wearing the flats for the night. They did match with her outfit and no one was going to be looking at her feet when the music started playing.

Other band members started filtering in, setting up their instruments and music. The other singers slowly made their way to the microphones standing next to hers. “Ooo, girl I love that top,” Jesse said, putting his flute on the music stand and setting up his sheet music. “Where’s the rest of it though?”

“What do you mean?” she said, looking down at her shirt. It wasn’t a low cut shirt and the material wasn’t see-through.

“I mean, don’t you need to go change your shoes or something?” Jesse’s eyebrow went up as he looked down at her black flats, disapprovingly.

“No. I’m fine like this.”

“Yeah okay.” He walked over to greet Tammy, who was walking towards them in a short dress and high heels. He kissed her on the cheek.

“That’s a cute dress,” she smiled at Tammy. She looked down at Tammy’s ankle, wrapped in beige bandages. “What happened to your foot??”

“Oh, I was jogging with my friends earlier and I fell and sprained my ankle,” Tammy rolled her eyes, trying to wave away the question.

“Do you really think you should be wearing three-inch heels? The gig is 3 hours long.”

“Yeah, I know, but if I didn’t wear the heels, it wouldn’t really be that good of a performance.”

Tammy walked away leaving her confused. Heels add to a performance? What aspect? Was she talking about helping her posture? Because it doesn’t. Maybe the audience experience? More than half would be on their feet dancing, not even really paying attention to what the singers looked like.

“Latin singers just need to wear heels. It completes the performance. ” Jesse said, looking down at her shoes.

“You’re not wearing heels.”

“It’s different. I’m a male performer.”

This is ridiculous, she thought. “Yeah, I’m not changing my shoes just to make you or anyone else think that the performance is more ‘authentic’.” She wouldn’t kill her feet or back just for appearances. She was there to sing. The music would speak for itself.

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