We’re standing at the mirror in the bathroom. She tells me that she feels like such a phony when she wears high heels. That anyone who sees her knows she’s not that tall, that it is simply the two inch wedge propping up the base of her foot. It’s an act and we all know it. But it’s a time tested bit of fashion, I remind her, and no one really thinks you look silly for it. We all know your eyelids aren’t naturally that shade of green, that your eyelashes aren’t really that long. I don’t feel silly about the makeup, she tells me, only the high heels. The high heels are such a lie. And I can’t bear to walk around in a lie.