Get your stiletto in the door chick lit writer contest!

I just found a great contest to share with all you other chick lit writers out there! Get your stiletto in the door chick lit writer contest! Sounds great, right?

I think so. I'm going to enter it. I'm not in Romance Writers of America. Perhaps I'll join!

The only problem I have with this is that I don't actually wear stiletto's. Ever. I can't.

It would be like putting stilettos on a milk cow and getting her to actually move in them. Is that really possible?

Can you imagine? And it's already hard to go cow-tipping, which I have done back in the heyday of my yesteryear and hearty youth (which was a long time ago since I am, after all, a QUIM - a Quirky Uncontrollable Immature Middel-aged woman)!

First of all, the milk cow would just stare at you and perhaps not budge an inch if you tried to lift up her hooves to put the stilettos on her. Then she'd moo, which is the equivalent of a laugh - mocking you perhaps. And then she'd probably change her mind at the last minute and STEP on you. Eegads! Then you'd perhaps be injured and fall back into the mud (yes, mud IS involved if you are brave enough to go out to a hayfield and find a milk cow near the barn...) and curse yourself, her, and the evil stilettos. Yikes!

Anyway, I just can't wear stilettos for almost the same reason, except for the mud and hooves part. If you tried to put them on ME, I WOULD just stare at you like a milk cow, long lashes curling, chewing my cud (or chocolate!) and laugh at you. Then I'd probably sneer and push you down into the mud or whatever else was nearby.

Three reasons I don't wear stiletto's:

1. I can't walk in stilettos because I can't MOVE in them. I'm very afraid that I will trip and fall. It's analagous to a green (and very scared) paratrooper whose job in training in whats-it man-sludge army/navy/manly-whatever-R-Us is to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I won't jump, thus I won't walk.

2. I rock from side to side wearing stilettos. How can you walk if you are rocking and swaying uncontrollably? Not meaning to rock? I guess I could go dancing in them, but I wouldn't be able to walk onto the dance floor. I'd have to change from my sneakers into the stilettos and then rock. And then where would I be if the dance style changed to tango? In Hell?! Oh yeah!

3. I might be just way too attractive to the opposite sex and my beau might have to help me fend off all those men! Ugh! Who wants that? I already have my man, and trust me, one is plenty!

So get your stiletto in the door at this fine chick lit writer contest! And maybe one of us will win! Hurrah!