Probably no one will notice

So I graduated this last weekend.

I KNOW

Matt and me at prom - I mean, graduation.  It was awkward,
okay?  There were so many people STARING at us.  So we left a little room
for Jesus just in case anyone forgot we've been married for years.
For real, though, we were really happy in this picture.

I have wanted to be a doctor my entire life that I can remember.  There was possibly a preschool interlude where I wanted to be an astronaut or perhaps an elf, but ever since then it's been medicine all the way (well, and during middle school I really wanted to go to Hogwarts, but even then I figured I'd be a healer but WITH A WAND, you GUYS, it would be so cool.  Anyway).  It made graduating on Friday a really big deal for me.  And I had so much family there.  I think we were that annoying, enormous group that clogs up the hallways and where everyone overflows with pride all over the place.  It was wonderful.  I have received so much love and support from family and friends during school, and to have so many of them there, some from very far away indeed, to witness the ceremonial transition from student to professional was overwhelming for me.  The silly octagonal hat, the choking hood-scarf thing - I loved all of it.

So.  This was the first graduation ceremony that really mattered to me - and I tripped.  Twice.

It's my fault for being completely clumsy, and also for wearing tights with a pair of heels that I'd never done that with before.  I wasn't counting on the lack of friction between my foot and the shoe.  So walking into the auditorium, when all eyes were on us, I felt the shoe slip halfway off my foot midstep.  Everyone behind me tells me I did a good job of recovering, but I'm pretty sure I actually groaned and stumbled down the aisle much like a zombie with one foot and a moist, slippery stump where the other should be.  I made it to my seat without actually hitting the ground but it was a near thing.  It meant I spent all of the speeches in a cold sweat, picturing myself completely wiping out as I reached the front of the stage and possibly taking out one of my attendings as she prepared to hood me.  The crowd would make that dismayed, rumbling, "Whoooaaa nooo" that it always makes when someone does something irredeemably embarrassing.  I could see it, over and over.  Lord, please, no.  Please no.  My feet hurt a lot.  Please get me across that stage with a bit of decorum.  I'm going to pass out.

I am thrilled to report that I made it across the stage, receiving my professional hood and diploma without incident.  Instead, my shoe tripped me again as soon as I got behind the curtain.  I took them off completely at this point.  And so, as I got my official graduation picture, all hooded and proud, I was also barefoot.  (The picture is from the waist up, we're good).

I also walked back into the auditorium barefoot, shoes neatly hidden in the folds of my fancy robe.  And the things stayed off until it was time to walk out.  And so this is the first lesson I learned as a brand-new lady doctor: embarrassing things are going to happen all the time.  JUST FAKE IT.  NO ONE WILL NOTICE, PROBABLY.

PROBABLY.