I see you there in the middle of the department room floor on the display table. Oh, you look so perfect with your not-to-high wedge and fringed straps. You almost have me convinced that I could walk several hours on you without getting a blister or needing to find the nearest patch of grass to sit down and yank you off.
You almost got me to believe that I could chase a rambunctious toddler around the playground without wobbling or taking a spill as I race behind my daughter who loves to play “chase.”
You almost had me fooled that pulling you on my feet would give me the self-confidence to dress like those other moms, you know the one’s in the skinny jeans whose kids have the ability to not spill – or wipe – anything on their mom’s jeans. I’m a human napkin.
It’s funny, but you helped me to harken back to a time when I would have strapped you right on and worn you all night walking from bar to bar with a group of girlfriends, sashaying our hips and throwing our heads back as we danced under strobing lights. At night, I’d toss you by the bed, only noticing how uncomfortable you really were once I was not in motion.
See, you almost got me again. Throwing me back to a time where dressing to go out was a Tuesday, Friday and Saturday night ritual.
Now, going out requires planning, packing a diaper bag with perfectly assembled outfits for an infant and toddler. Dressing for the day requires careful consideration of what my daughter will be eating that afternoon and if my pants and top can hide any forthcoming stains – not to mention the dreaded muffin top. My footwear needs to be comfortable now; practical, and capable of handling the constant up and down of jumping from sitting to standing as I rush to catch my daughter before she reaches the display case of gift cards and cookies at the Starbucks counter. My shoes, dear wedges, need to be able to handle the constant bouncing my infant requires as she is rocked to sleep.
Although you’ve persuaded me to try you on, don’t think you’re going to talk me into buying you. Even if you make my legs look so strong; my butt look so perky and make me feel, should I dare to say, sexy? There I said it.
Okay, we’ve had our fun, but it’s time to go back in the box. The toddler can’t watch Yo Gabba Gabba on the iPhone much longer and the infant is starting to stir.
But you go with everything? Have the ability to dress up a nursing top paired with dark-wash skinny jeans – the ones I purchased on sale in an effort to dress up the way I used to before kids? A purchase made after my husband said “remember when we used to go on dates? Those were good times.” Wearing you, with your fringe around the angle and peep toe, will help build my confidence to affirm that I’m more than a mom – I’m still me? The me of the B.B. (Before Babies) era where practicality be damned I’m wearing the highest heel to be found in my closet because they make me look – and feel – damn fine?
But how ridiculous will it look pairing you, dear wedge, with my camel-colored Ergo? What’s that? Practicality be damned! All that matters is how I feel? And moms (especially moms!) deserve to feel good about themselves?
I have to say, dear wedge, you put up a good fight. Thank you for helping me remember, well, me.
Now let’s head to the nearest register because I promised my daughter we’d ride the merry-go-round one last time before heading home.
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