What I’m Wearing: Flats (Confessions of a Grown-Up)

For three weeks now, I’ve been wearing flats. And — hearing about how short I am. My height advantage that I’ve worked so hard for, spending hours in 4 or 5″ Fluevog heels? It’s gone. Oops, the secret is out. I’m actually not that tall.

On January 1st, I went out in -13 degree temps for what has become my traditional New Years Day run and ran an extremely chilly 8km.

The next day, I braved a crazy-ass snow storm for hot yoga, and quite likely wrecked my knee jumping from a standing side split into a high plank.

The same day I coincidentally busted my knee, I used my Christmas money from my mom and sister to buy a pair of low-heeled knee-high black leather Clark’s boots.

They’re probably what saved my knee the past few weeks. That, and staying off my yoga mat and the pavement, as hard as it’s been.

I haven’t been blogging, it’s been pointed out to me by a few different people. Nope, I haven’t been.

This living in the real world has been kicking my ass, quite frankly.

Busted my knee on the second day of a brand new year.

Then, Clara got the flu and it was a long, stressful week of monitoring high fevers and beating them down with Tylenol and trips back and forth to the doctor.

Then I got sick. Of course I did. Feeling like I’m about to DIE sick. Almost ten looooong days of being sick. #inevitable

Then, in between it all, I ended up with not one, two or three but four holes in my living room ceiling/wall because my upstairs neighbour decided to pour bacon fat down their drain, which clogged and froze. And, well bacon fat can’t thaw in minus 30 degree temps. Of course it can’t.

(Oh, thank GOD for Ritchie the plumber and Wally the contractor – who actually changed the lightbulbs over my stairwell when I sheepishly asked.)

Then – because this isn’t enough – oh no – I gave my real estate agent the go ahead to start looking for condos for me and somehow Tuesday, I ended up on the 19th floor of a high-rise looking out towards the lake in the far off distance. Suddenly, things started to feel very real.

When, exactly, did I become a grown up?

Was it when I started wearing boots without a heel that I was initially convinced were granny-ish? Until I mentioned that to a friend at work and she observed that the length of my hemlines with said boots are decidedly un-grannyish.

Point taken.


Yes, I’m aware my mirror needs a healthy dose of Windex. They all do. I also have unfolded laundry in Clara’s bedroom, along with all our Christmas decorations in their boxes. And, I have four tubs of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in my freezer.

But, I’m still here.

A little overwhelmed. Anxious at times. Panicking a bit and a little bewildered frankly, when sometimes I catch myself in the mirror and don’t quite recognize the person staring back.


And yet, it’s me. I know this to be true. It’s just taking a little getting used too.

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