my shoes are NOT his problem

oh, but they are.

Jeff, my darling sweet man, who is often so kind and takes care of me even when I don't ask for it, put his foot down last weekend on my feet. Well, not literally.

We were at a wedding in Vermont.  Jeff in his suit and me in my very very cute H&M dress- we made a smashing couple. 

Now, before we even left the hotel, I asked him which shoes I should wear with my dress- the black pair with ruffles, the black wedges or the nude wedges. I was rooting for the nude wedges, so cute and make my legs look longer than a person who is 5'4" legs should look.  Of course, as soon as he heard the words, "what should I...", without even looking, he replied "whichever ones are the most comfortable". Well, that was easy, the nude wedges. Most comfortable = looks the best...right?

Cute, yes? Anyway, back to the story.  So, the ceremony at the church started at 1.  We were there by 12:50, just in time.  At this point, me + shoes were great. In fact, I smiled smugly after the ceremony as other girls heels sunk into the grass. Not me! My wedges held firm.

By 2:30 we were at the Essex for the reception. My feet were still holding up fine. By 3:30 we were outside on the patio for cocktail hour(s). Hours. That went until 5:30. There were maybe 5 chairs and 150 people, so we stood and drank in the amazing sun.  At 5:30 we "lined up" and waited to receive the bride and groom. It was around this point that I started to notice several things.
  1. I had to pee but the line to "receive" was insanely long and I was somewhere near if not at the very end.
  2. Drinking and sun are a bad combination- I was severely in need of water. Ironic isn't it, that I had to pee.
  3. And finally, my feet hurt. Not like...ow they are sore hurt, but a weird pinching feeling on the tops of my toes. 
Finally around 6:30 we were in the reception hall and I saw our table and more importantly, my seat. I sat and gave my feet a break, gulped down a glass of pre-poured water from a silly fancy glass and took a deep breath. Then I remembered I had to pee. And badly. As I stood up to make my way to the restroom, my feet started to scream. Oh, they screamed.  I hobbled to the restroom and once I solved that problem, sat down on a bench in the hallway to investigate what problem was going on near my toes.

Left shoe removed, I saw the blood. Oh my. My darling shoes that I once thought were amazing and comfortable, proved they would do harm if I stood in them for hours on end. Right shoe removed and I found the same problem. The skin on the tops of my does had been rubbed into angry red blisters that from even the slightest touch, burned and throbbed. Crap. We still had 4 hours of the reception to go! How was I going to dance? How was I going to shake my groove thing? THEN, I remembered. We had packed a change of clothes in the car for when it got cold around the bonfire.  I had brought black flip flops.

Excited and seeing a light at the end of the painful blistery tunnel, I slowly made my way back to the table where I announced to Jeff the good news, "My flip flops are in the car!!" He gave me a blank look. Okkkkkkkay, perhaps I should try again. "My feet hurt so bad, but my flip flops are in the car so I can just wear those!" I looked at him with a happy, expecting look on my face. He looked back at me, not moving. He didn't jump up and say that he would go get them, thrilled that my shoes would no longer stab my feet. He just looked at me, then looked back at his potatoes and took a bite. I cleared my throat and said, "isn't that great? just right in the car!"

Finally he said something, "That is great. Here are the keys!"

Um. I am sorry? What? I can't go get my shoes...the parking lot is like....a football field away. My feet will fall off. I will collapse outside, never to be found. I'll have to crawl to the car and I'd ruin my dress. I'd sweat. My hair will get messy. What is wrong with him????????

I watched him eat his mashed garlic potatoes and then said, "well, my feet really really hurt so can you get them for me?"  He put his fork down, wiped his mouth and replied, "didn't I tell you to wear your most comfortable shoes?"

Yes, he had. and I did! At least I thought I did. But, that wasn't the point! The point was that I, the woman he loved, had sore painful feet and my relief was in the car and he could be my knight in shinning armor and get it for me! I must have looked stunned because he followed up his statement by telling me:

his shoes are HIS problem and my shoes are MY problem.

Uhhhh, who are you and what did you do with my darling sweet boyfriend? I took a huuuuuuge breath, ready to launch into EXACTLY why my feet are his problem, but before I could get a word out- he push his chair back, kissed me quick on the forehead and said, "but I love you- so you and your stubborn streak of wearing the cute shoes are my problem too, I guess."

10 minutes later I had my flip flops. 

1 comment:

Emily said...


1. Fabulous dress!!!

2. I looooooooove Jeff.

3. I totally would have made you walk your butt out to the car. (Who am I kidding? I would have walked out there with you & tried to convince you that you should let me give you a piggy-back ride & then probably walked barefoot with you because summer sun + drinking totally equals barefoot trips with lots of giggles.)

4. XO