On Italian women and why I can never be one

This is a matter of sheer physics. Italian women can walk in stilettos and I cannot.

I have extremely weak ankles. I can turn my ankle just standing in our kitchen wearing flats! I don't know if I also have a poor sense of balance, too, or if wherever the ankle turns, so do I.

On our final weekend in Roma I actually watched a woman about my age walk in a pair of very high heels. She did not cling desperately to the man she was with, as do I. She did not look down at every stone to negotiate a smooth path, as do I. Still, her foot seemed to find every stone and not the gap between them. In addition, her ankles seemed to auto-correct for changes in grade (which occurred with nearly every step). I mean, you could literally watch the muscles around her ankles steel themselves to the threat of a roll-over. My ankles don't/can't do that.

Which leads me to one of the great disappointments of my life. I can never be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars or Ballare con le Stelle (if I'm in Italy). You know the scene where the spunky, but heartbroken contestant is getting the news from the orthopedist that her short-lived career as a television personality has ended because of an injury, well, that would be me...in the first episode!