Shoe-icide.

The Dansko clog: PTSD culprit

These are my weekend hospital work shoes.

My husband thinks they look like scary orthotics. And if I am not mistaken, he also has suggested that if he only saw one of them, he'd bet money that they belonged to someone with asymmetric leg lengths.

Ain't that some mess?

The good news is that I don't wear them anywhere other than the hospital on ultra-long inpatient rounding days. The man hates them, yes. But they are ridiculously comfortable, even if you have to stand for a gazillion hours in a row, which is why I purchased them in the first place.

Oh--let me clarify. I don't not wear them elsewhere because of Harry's opinion about them. The truth is that I pretty much agree with him for the most part. On most days, I'm not a "clogs" kind of girl at all, and the girly-girl in me is often willing to commit shoe-icide for fashion's and for husband's sake. What can I say? A good pair of it-girl high heels makes me happy. Which is fortunate considering I sho' nuff married a see-his-wife-in-some-car-to-bar-scary-high-heels kind of man.

Okay.

Now, here's the funny part:  since work on the weekends is just about the only place I rock these hand-stapled Danish atrocities, it has created a Pavlovian reaction for Zachary who hates it when I have to round on weekends.  If I so much as take them out of the closet, the dude hits me with the sad-face.  His bottom lip gets to quivering and he wails:

"Not the shoes, Mommy! Not to work, Mommy!"

Well just tear my heart right out of my chest, why don't you?

Okay, so is it bad that every time I had to round on weekends last month, I left the house wearing my Ugg boots (which I am in 24-7 around the house and that Harry calls "grounds for divorce") and then changed into the Dansko's in the Grady parking garage? Shoot. It was either that or see a four year old cry.

See? These are the kinds of important dilemmas I face before going to stamp out disease every day. I'm just sayin'.

What kind of crazy things are y'all dealing with in your neck of the woods?

***

Happy Sunday.

Work shoes.

"That's hot, babe."

Okay, so here's something I deal with in my household:

My (wonderful) husband believes that any shoe that is less than 17 inches tall should be reserved for work. When we went to the Jay Z concert a few years back--I kid you not--Harry had to give me a horsey back ride all the way to the car when it was over. Yes. He carried a grown woman for like six blocks, man. To this day, I do not feel guilty as I maintain that I was 100% taking one for the team when I got myself dressed that night. ("The team" = Harry.)  

There's just something about dolling up in heels that makes my husband's heart go pitter patter. And I'll admit--I like to make his heart go pitter patter. (Even if it renders me in need for emergent orthopedic surgery.)

Happy spouse, happy house.

Dreadful platforms with a wooden heel? Perfect for a night on the town. Darling little kitten heels? Fuggeddaboudit. If it ain't "car to bar"-- my husband deems it a "work shoe."

Uggghh.

That said, my usually uber-sweet husband takes great pride in unleashing some real zingers on me when it comes to my collection of quasi-fashionable work shoes. (Good thing I have such a positive self image when it comes to my "orthotics.")

"Aren't these cute, babe? Come on!"

"Yeah. Cute if you're going to Grady."

"I get a lot of compliments on these, you know!"

"Uuuuhhh, okay."

"Dang."

So today I'm reflecting on work shoes and what they say about you before you even utter a word. . . . here's my take on it. . .complete with a nice little Harry commentary for your entertainment.

"Work shoes?"

"People really compliment those?"

This shoe says:

• "I am rounding but I still would like to maintain at least one iota of style.
• "However, that style must also be vomit-proof hence the shiny finish."
• (If you ask Harry) "I am on my way to go work in a hospital in my fashion-orthotics."

"Nice little shoe to wear to walk to breakfast on Saturday."

This shoe says:

• "I am a wannabe chic resident or an intern who is on call today."
• "And I am hoping and praying that my attending is not 50 or older or else I will be chastised about these shoes."
• "I don't run or do any form of exercise."
• "I hope that the really, really cute (fill in the blank) will notice how cute I am in my cool sneaks and start crushing on me."
• "I hope that my belligerent and inappropriate patient in restraints will not notice how cute I am in my sneaks and start hitting on me."

"I hope that's for work."

 This shoe says:

• "I know, I know. . . I'm working in the hospital. But can't a girl still wear a heel?"
• "Even if it's a lame, Mary Poppins-esque heel, it counts."
• (If you ask Harry) "I am on my way to work. Why else would I own this shoe?"
• "And especially, if it weren't a work shoe . . . .why would you own this shoe in two different colors?"

"The only thing worse than that shoe in black is that shoe in brown."

"That's a nice work shoe, babe. . . "

 This shoe says:

• "I am secretly the Carrie Bradshaw of the hospital--wearing my 3+ inchers to Grady like it ain't nothin'!"
• "But seriously? I'm really here to sign a few charts and sit in a meeting. Otherwise I would require another horsey back ride out of the hospital."

"Uggh. Orthotics."

This shoe says:

• "I am an intern."
• "I am a resident."
• "I am an ER doctor."
• "I am a nurse who is at work."
• "I am an attending who just had bunion surgery or who has plantar fasciitis."
• "I am a medical student who wants to 'look the part' on my clinical rotations so I bought a $130 pair of horrid shoes with adorned with staples."

steely glare without comment

 This shoe says: 

• "I just quit my job at the hospital or withdrew from medical school so don't care if you see me in these."
• "I compost." 

"Grounds for divorce." ~ Harry