SMS
RSS feeds
Reddit
NewsvineLast summer, on a whim, I decided to bake chocolate chip cookies. This behavior in itself is not particularly noteworthy; I’ve been baking chocolate chip cookies with some regularity since grade school. The combined effects of comforting routine, aromatherapy and delectable end result are hard to beat. But this time I charted new territory by baking in high heels. Nothing too stratospheric, but not your mother’s Nine West pumps either.
Enlarge
It was a relatively quiet evening in the fraternity house that was my home for three months — I had the big industrial kitchen all to myself. Ingredients assembled, I spooned the gooey mounds on a buttered baking sheet. As soon as the essence of hot dough and melting chocolate began making its voluptuous way through the house, men started to appear out of nowhere, their heads popping in like puppy dogs, sniffing the air.
“Whatcha bakin’?” they’d ask, their eyes wide, mouths salivating.
Several boys asked me if I baked often, and a few more told me they thought it was awesome that I loved to bake for the fun of it. They stood close to me and looked me up and down, asked me about myself, offered to wash up my dishes. It seemed that I had, with just a few flicks of the wrist, managed to charm a dozen men into complete submission.
I was flirting with a fantasy nearly all males hold dear: the provocatively flour-dusted dream woman who will feed him, take care of him and keep him totally satisfied. And does this woman exist? Absolutely not! If any of these gentlemen really knew me (for the most part, our relationships consisted of brushing past each other in the hallways for a couple of weeks), they would know that I can barely cook, have a room that resembles a jumble sale in a third-world country and thoroughly enjoy having my own way. But I played along for the fun of it.
Out came the cookies — and the results were spectacular: reasonably attractive woman in high heels + tray of hot, mouth-watering confection = the proverbial Pied Piper of men. They ate the cookies as if they were exotic delicacies, groaning in ecstasy, licking their fingers, flattering me and proposing marriage. Now I call that a success.
It even took a while for the effects of my dressing up to wear off. I had been marked. Boys I barely knew came to my door, inviting me to parties or simply wanting to talk; they’d smile and wave, ask how I was doing, volunteer to carry things for me. Eventually, things did calm down (and I must admit, I was a bit relieved), but I had discovered quite an amusing game.
In a world where image is taken so seriously, it was refreshing to play with my own so freely and noncommittally. As a confident, hard-working woman at Stanford, I love that I have the freedom to dress up and play with my own image, whether it’s athletic, ultra-feminine, academic, or something else entirely. There are many facets to all of our personalities; as students, we wear so many hats on campus, moving between classes, jobs and social events. Take the opportunity to explore your character, throw off old hats and sport new ones that inspire you, and step outside of the ordinary every once in a while.
Playing dress up doesn’t have to be something you do alone in your room in front of a mirror. Donning a new image out in the open can be a wildly entertaining (and even illuminating) experience. Go ahead and have some fun! It may be that all you need is a pair of high heels.