Cents and Sensibilities

Prom season has come upon our house, which means lots of shopping, glitter hair spray and lipstick.

Prom was Saturday and as of Friday Airenne had the dress, but no shoes to go with and no time to go shopping. She had her usual school schedule with a soccer game and track meet crammed in between. So I did what any mother would do who had a camera on her cell phone. I went virtual shopping.

The plus side of having a daughter that is tall is that we can share our wardrobe. Ok, well, usually she wears my clothes and I wear her shoes, for obvious reasons...it just works out better that way. But for shopping purposes, it's great. I was able to go into a couple of stores, gather up a few pairs of shoes that were .. ahem.. *acceptable* and try them on to make sure they had her size. I then took a picture of each of them and sent it to her via picture mail. She sent me the picture back of the ones she liked best. And viola! shoe shopping done. I figured we'd go shopping "for real" early Saturday morning, before her hair appointment to actually try them on and pick them up.

But as I was leaving the pavilion, I started doubting my choices for her. She and I don't always have similar taste.. but on these shoes, we did agree. The dress was a little black number with cut outs in the back. It had tuxedo tucks and light sequins along the neckline. She fit it perfectly. Anyway, the shoes we picked out were very sexy. Almost too sexy, but perfect for this dress. I wasn't sure if they were appropriate for an almost 17 year old. But I knew they would look great on an almost 35 year old.

And that got me to thinking..."If I buy these shes for her, I can wear them later with a cute pair of jeans or something.. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd probably never really wear those. I'd be too tall in them... where would I wear them to... they'll end up giving me blisters..." yada yada. I began to talk myself out of them before I even purchased them. I told myself that I was too old to worry about looking *hot*. I'll just stick with my boring, flat, brown, sensible shoes. You know, the ones every mom has. Easy to slip on, comfortable. ugly.

I couldn't believe it. I was actually... CONSCIOUSLY having a moment where I was giving in. Giving up. Literally, I allowed myself to pass from a stylistically verging, thirty-something year old woman... into a frump. I expected it to be a slow fade, but this day.. it went full throttle into the dumps. Christine was put in the back seat.

Not too long ago, at a Christmas sale, I spied a pair of ruby red, patent leather Mary-Jane stilettos... And I bought them! I was so proud of myself. I felt like I was on my way back from a land far far away, where I looked and smelled like everyone else and said all the *right things*. These shoes would be my ticket outta that place.. back to where I "used to live". Where a Little Bit of Sexy neighbored with Ms. Responsible. I wanted to go home. Get out of my minivan life and meet up with myself for a long drive on the coast, top down, hair whipping in the wind.

Sigh.

But I have yet to wear these exquisite shoes anywhere but my bedroom. Wait...that didn't come out right. I mean, I have not worn them yet in public. I knew they would look fabulous with the right outfit. But every time I think about wearing them, I talk myself out of it. I mean really, these shoes are fierce. The ooze "Christine". But I feel funny about walking out of the house with them on. Who am I to be wearing these? I mean, I'm a mom. And I haven't worn heels in so long, I probably would trip over myself in them.

Yesterday bright and early, I took *A* to check out a couple of more places before we settled on the purchase of the black sandals. Then from the bottom shelf, a pair of sweet baby pink high heeled beauties called my name. LOUDLY. I seriously gasped with joy when I saw these shoes. I put them on and strutted around the store with them almost the entire time that *A* was checking out her options. They fit like Cinderella's glass slippers, I felt so pretty in them. I was this close >.< to buying them. Even *A* said that if they make me feel that pretty, then I should buy them.

Then I looked at the price tag and felt defeated. dangit. They were more than I was willing to spend, especially considering that we were supposed to be shopping for *A*'s shoes, not mine. So I put them back. And slipped my old comfy brown shoes back on. We did end up buying her the first pair of sexy shoes we'd agreed on, and maybe, just maybe.. you'll see me around town with them on.