Operation DeMomFrump: The Great Shoe Debate

 

It's time to talk about shoes, people. And motherhood.

Ok, fine. To be more specific, it's actually time to talk about how motherhood (sometimes but not always) somehow seems to make our shoe collections really fucking boring (as compared to the days before we had to worry about not tripping over Lego pieces on the floor barefoot, let alone while in that super cute pair of stilettos you donated after the first baby came.)

If you happen to be a mom and are shaking your head in confusion because your closet is jam-packed with stylish hooker heels and fashionable six-inch wedge sandals because you wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of ballet flats, then please do the rest of us a favor and mosey on along in your perfectly pressed white denim capris. You don't want to be late for your date with Perfection, and the rest of us and our flip-flopped, unpedicured feet may very well be contagious. So really, this is all for the best. Plus? We don't like you very much.

Before I became a mom, the only flat shoes I owned were the ones I wore to the gym. Oh, and my winter boots (I'm from Detroit and winters required something more substantial than sandals.) But swaying mindlessly from side to side to soothe a crying baby is much easier while not balancing on five-inch heels and practical takes precedence over style. Before I knew it, I was getting excited over new ballet flats. And don't even get me started on my TOMS.

No. Really. Don't.

The Husband hates those things.

So then I found myself being What Not to Wear'ed by my five-year-old for an out of town wedding and in need of a pair of black dress shoes. I hadn't planned on buying a new dress to begin with, and now that I had, I figured I'd just wear the black version of the one pair of high heels I own in two colors. And by high heel I mean a wedge-like, 1920's style, practical and cute and very stable three-inches. BFF Heather and Writing Friend Valerie wasted no time in letting me know where they stood. The words, "Friends don't let friends leave the house in shoes like that" come to mind.

And suddenly I found myself wobbling through shoe aisles at various shoe stores and avoiding eye contact with the UPS guy as he dropped off yet another box full of stilettos from a few of the free-shipping-free-returns sites because I got tired of driving to the other side of Tucson to look like an asshole.

I'll spare you the saga I posted on instagram and apologize if you are a fan or a friend on Facebook. You all had to watch me go bat-shit crazy over this shoe versus that shoe versus fashion versus comfort versus safe zone versus comfort zone. I'm really sorry you had to see that. In the end, I ended up striking clearance gold at Dillard's when I found this pair of Michael Kors marked at 40% off.

Patent leather. I know. Even I surprised myself.

But now the question remains: I may have been DeMomFrumped for the wedding with my snazzy new dress and sexy new shoes, but what about my tried and true practical pumps? Whaddya say, Internetz? Can I keep them?