We had a Christmas dinner last night at one of those places that serves sidedishes separately from the entrees. And the entrees cost $30 or so each. It was crazy-fancy. This meant, of course, we had to put on our grown-up clothes which, although we don’t do it often, we totally love to do. MrZ just bought his first suit this year, but has found a reason to wear it four times since he bought it. Which he should, he looks so rockin’ in it. I bought myself a fancy satin shirt and spent the hour before leaving with my rain jacket on and buttoned to my chin because I was afraid NikkiZ would drool or snot or spit on it. I kept saying, “I’m scared to let anything happen to this fabric – it’s very high-maintenance!”
We stopped for coffee before dinner (we had time to kill) and MrZ said something about “evening makeup” to which I replied, “What the hell is evening makeup?” He then continue to school me on how you are supposed to do your makeup differently for nights out than you would during the day. Or some such cosmetic wisdom like that. Why is it that my husband knows that kind of stuff but I don’t?
We had a fantastic food and hilarious conversation. I think it’s a good sign when you have so much fun at a company function that you are shocked by how late it is when you leave. (I’m sure sharing a bottle of wine (Riesling!) with one other person helped).
I also bought crazy tall boots for the occasion. I don’t think I’ve ever owned a shoe with so much of a heal before in my LIFE. I actually managed to walk in them all night (even while carrying a baby) (and after several glasses of wine) and not fall even ONCE. To which MrZ is eternally grateful. Nothing like making an impression on the new company by busting ass in a high-class restaurant.
Of course, I was very happy to take them off when I got home. People who say that you get used to walking in heals? Are on crack. There is no way I could ever get used to that. My poor legs still hurt today and I’ve run half-marathons, so I’m not wuss. But those boots? Man. I’d rather have post-marathon blisters than post-high-heal calf cramps. Next time, I’m not putting the painful shoes on until right before we walk out the door, wearing them around for an hour before was dumb as hell.
Life’s lessons about footwear are the hardest to learn.