I have a confession to make. My name is Keli and I'm a heel-a-holic. I didn't come to terms with my high heel addiction easily. In fact, as someone who's been nearly 6 feet tall since junior high, I had never considered high heels a necessity. Looking back, I actually spent much of my adolescence trying to call less attention to my height, not more. But at some point -- and I'm not exactly sure when it happened -- I became just as obsessed with sky-high stilettos as some of my vertically challenged sisters. How obsessed? Let's put it this way... I'm currently in rehab and therapy and struggling to let go of my addiction. And no, I'm not joking... Here's what you had to say: Alexandra commented via Facebook: "I'm not addicted to heels but I do feel weird when I see a sexy pair of heels but can't buy them." Keisha wrote via Facebook: "I love mine so much, they have names."
It's hard to believe that one of the most intense and intimate relationships in our lives is one that does not involve the words love or sex, but does involve the word hair. As I recently discovered, parting with a hairstylist is really not that different from a divorce, and I say that not for dramatic effect, but because I really mean it... Here's what you had to say: Antanette commented via Facebook: "Never went to a white stylist but I did switch to Dominicans." Kim wrote via Facebook: "I did once and my hair was a hot mess!"