I am not a girlie-girl. Not by any means. Aside from girl parts and long hair, most of my traits are pretty boyish. Or boi-ish. I don’t wear pink. I don’t carry a purse (unless you count a messenger bag). I don’t wear skirts. And I don’t know how to walk in high heels.

I called the school a couple weeks ago with plans to watch a class at Miss Vera’s. But she wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, everyone takes the class,” she told me. “You’ll have to bring a pair of high heels.”

“But I don’t even know what size I wear in girl shoes,” I complained. Heels in my mind are associated with pain. So I try not to keep a pair on hand.

“What size are you?” she asked.

“Six and a half in boys,” I told her sheepishly.

Pause.

“Get an 8,” she said. “You can get a cheap pair at Payless.”

Monday night, with my $12.99 shoes hidden discreetly in my messenger bag, I headed to the Midtown studio for class. I’d selected a slightly wider heel, to ensure maximum stability. While I have no problem walking on stilts – really – a stiletto heel was out of the question.

The class meets monthly and costs $49 per session, but I paid a discounted press rate. The classes range in size but average around eight people and include both what Vera calls “bio femmes” and transgender folks who are learning to walk gracefully in heels. Miss Vera’s Academy also offers a range of other classes, including voice, makeup, etiquette, modeling, dining out and dance. And while it’s not exactly in the course listing, what graduates leave the school with is confidence in themselves and acceptance about who they are.

“It’s my way of being political,” Vera said.

In the studio, the sound of clicking heels reverberates against the wood floor. Instructor Maryanne Byington, the school’s dean of high heels, is putting on her skirt and heels. With a background in competitive ballroom dancing, she is a master of balance, poise and grace – three things I lack.

The confirmation letter from the academy said to come in anything from “drag to drab.” My classmates Rita, Misty and Clair took the drag route – each dressed in a skirt or dress. I wore slacks.

“We have to be able to see your ankles,” Vera told me. I rolled my pants up.

“Walking with heels is more head to toe than just feet,” Boyington said as class began. “Standing well is going to be the best aid to walking in heels.”

Standing in line, we practiced moving our hips left to right, then standing coyly on one foot. I noted my trouble finding my hips, but Boyington assured me I did have them.

Under Byington’s direction, we walked in circles, turning our toes out, one foot in front of the other. Good posture was key to providing the right balance. With each stride, we learned to adjust our weight to make our hips sway.

“Your body should float quietly above your legs,” she told us. She noted my feet did not offer that same quietness.

“Ruth, you’re getting there,” she encouraged. “But you’re getting there with a thud.” (Any of my exes can tell you that thud is my signature. You can always hear me coming downstairs.)

“It’s hard depending on the shoe. But you should try to not land with a thud,” she said.

As the class progressed, we learned to sit properly in a chair.

“The key is keeping your knees together,” Byington said.

We learned how to get into a cab, how to walk down steps and how to make an entrance.

“Show them how fabulous you are,” Byington said.

I gave it my best. After class, and back in my regular dress shoes, I still found myself gliding across the sidewalk with a new level of grace I didn’t think I had a few hours before.

Asked whether it was harder to teach men or butch girls to walk in heels, Byington said, “neither. It’s just different.” – it is about learning to know how the body works.

I’m sure mine will continue to thud, but next time I get all girlied up, I’ll definitely be more confident in my own shoes. And, in the end, that is what Miss Vera’s academy is all about.