Slippery Business: How a Pair of Platform Sandals Could Have Saved My Life… and Honor

Two men stood in less than a foot of water, leading an aerobics session to a pool full of boozy tourists. I was one of them. I waved my arms above my head, careful not to lose any of the beer out of the can in my hand. I tried to focus on the two turquoise polos moving in unison in front of me, but alas, I had to pee for about the 80th time that morning.

I was feeling hungover and sore after having been on a resort in Cancún for a wedding for nearly a week. The night before had been the actual ceremony and reception, where I spent most of the evening either refilling formula bottles and fanning my breastfeeding sister or dancing and making trips in four-inch heels up to my room to reapply deodorant. I could feel a low burn deep in my thighs. So for this one trip to the bathroom, I couldn’t be bothered to put on my damp swimsuit cover up and jam my waterlogged feet into my sandals again — the sandals my 19-year-old sister said made me look like an old person trying to look young.

When the platform slides arrived on my front porch, I sent a pic to my sister.

Initially, all I received in response was the laugh/cry emoji.

“You like them, right” I asked. “I can’t tell if I love them or hate them,” she said.“There’s no in-between.”

“These were really cool in the early 2000s,” I tried pleading to the younger generation.