There was a time when high heels were a part of my daily life. In the Philippines, wearing them to work felt natural, effortless even. I didn’t have to walk long distances, thanks to “pedicabs” (tricycles) readily available on every corner or the convenience of my husband dropping me off and picking me up. The thought of wearing anything else never crossed my mind. High heels made me feel confident, tall, and put together. In fact, walking without them felt strange, as if something was missing.
Then came the big move to Germany, and everything changed. I tried to hold onto my heels, determined to keep that piece of my identity intact. But reality set in quickly. Here, the work culture was different. The canteen was far, and walking wasn’t just a casual stroll—it was a fast-paced march. My colleagues moved swiftly, and I struggled to keep up. The seasons played a role, too. Heels in winter? Impossible. Even in summer, I hesitated. The sidewalks were unforgiving, and the distances were no joke.
Reluctantly, I made the switch to sneakers. At first, it felt like a betrayal. Sneakers were foreign to me in a work setting. I felt shorter, almost exposed, as if my confidence had taken a hit. But little by little, something shifted. The comfort was undeniable. I could walk faster, move with ease, and no longer worried about stumbling on uneven ground. I started to appreciate the practicality, the freedom of movement.
Before I knew it, I had a growing collection of sneakers—nine pairs of Converse and a few pairs of the other brands. The shift wasn’t just in footwear; it was in mindset. What once felt awkward now felt natural. My high heels, once my trusted companions, were pushed to the back of the closet. I still own a few pairs, but they rarely see the light of day. There’s a pair of high-heeled sandals that have been barely worn, and my wedding shoes remain untouched, cherished for sentimental reasons rather than function.
Sometimes, I try to slip back into heels, but the confidence I once had in them is gone. I feel unsteady, like I might trip at any moment. It’s strange how something that was once second nature can become so foreign. Here, walking isn’t just part of the routine—it’s a necessity. And not just walking, but walking fast. If I don’t keep up, I fall behind.
My journey from high heels to sneakers wasn’t just about shoes. It was about adaptation, about learning to embrace change rather than resist it. High heels symbolized a version of me that thrived in a different environment, where convenience made them practical. Sneakers represent the person I am now—someone who values comfort, efficiency, and practicality in a place where walking is a way of life.
I sometimes look at my heels and remember the confidence they once gave me. But now, my sneakers give me a different kind of confidence—the confidence to move freely, to keep up, and to embrace the pace of my new world. And that, in itself, is a transformation I never saw coming.
