Fashion Idiocy

Every day, I walk Charles to school.  I strap Freddie into the Ergo, I strap Jamie into the stroller, and I make Charles walk because (according to him) I am mean.  I’ve learned that the thing to do is to get him talking about something that is interesting to him right when we start walking to stave off the whining and complaints about his legs hurting.

 

School is a whole half-mile away, so obviously walking there every morning and walking home every afternoon is sheer TORTURE.

 

Since the beginning of the school year, I have logged 200 miles of walking, give or take.  One mile in the morning, one in the afternoon.  Five days a week. 

 

Regardless of my outfit for the day, I always wear my sneakers.  My boots, heels, and ballet flats just don’t hold up to two miles pushing a stroller and wearing a baby, uphill both ways (no, really, we go both up and down a hill, so technically there is an uphill in both directions).  I get dressed in the morning for work in my dresses, skirts, skinny jeans, or slacks and then pull on warm socks and my sneakers and hit the road.  Obviously, I change before I leave for work.

 

There are a few ladies who walk every lunch hour near my office and they always wear sneakers with their power suits.  When you’re walking for fitness (or to get to school on time), you need appropriate footwear.  I never, in all the times I saw them walking, smirked or giggled or judged their footwear.  OBVIOUSLY, they didn’t choose sneakers as the perfect complement to their nice skirts.

 

 

I have sacrificed footwear fashion to walk with my boys.  Even yesterday, I wore skinny jeans with socks pulled up and my sneakers on.  When I got home, I put on my tall boots.

 

See?  At work I look (sort of) normal. 

 

I didn’t ever think about looking like a fashion idiot until a friend pointed out that I was one on FaceBook.  What’s with the socks?  Nothing before.  I figured most people would understand that I probably don’t dress like that except to walk my kid to school.  But now?  What’s with the socks is my rapidly fraying sense of self-esteem.  A fashion idiot, passed by hundreds of people every day, all of whom are noting how ridiculous I look in my skinny jeans, long socks, and sneakers.  Or my skirt and socks and sneakers.  It’s all I can think about now as I trudge up and down that stupid hill.