I went shopping for my first ever pair back in October. Heck, everyone was doing it. I just couldn't hold out anymore. I blame it on Utah weather. My motives were pure. Weren't they?
I soon realized that boots aren't just a style (or a good way to keep your feet dry), they are a way of life. I went from store to store, trying on boots, trying to stuff the bottom of my pants inside them, trying to zip the zipper over my calves. Yes, if you wear boots, you have to wear them over your pants. And if you wear them over your pants, your pants have to fit into them. It's skinny jeans all the way, baby, if you're going to do it right.
Now, just so you know, if you're a newcomer to bootage, you'll also need to forget about most of your skirts because they will probably look a little silly with boots.
No matter how you figure,
you're going to need a whole new wardrobe with your boots. At the very least, you'll need a scarf and earrings to match.
Even amidst such adverse circumstances, and taking full responsibility for the consequences of my life-changing decision, I bought me a pair of boots.
Sometime thereafter, with my boots donned and my head held high, I strolled through a mall in Salt Lake City. I have always been obsessed with shoes, and naturally I found myself watching people's feet. More specifically, their boots.
And the number of feet in boots in that particular mall on that particular day was ridiculous. Boots boots boots. BOOTS. Little girls, teenagers, gals my age, and, yes, even some middle-aged ladies walking past me, self-consciously chattering away to each other with their wide-legged jeans stuffed into the top of their tight, high, very silly boots.
Suddenly, I was hit by the hilarity, the sheer absurdity of the fact that almost every female walking through the mall was wearing boots. It was like we were all in slow-mo, our boots hitting the floor and echoing in unison. Yes, some of the boots could have been useful in the case of snow or rain, but I wouldn't count on it. And I'm pretty sure it doesn't snow inside the mall.
From some kind of bird's-eye view we all looked ridiculous. All copying each other, all desperately hoping that we looked exactly like everyone else, but also that we stood out just a little bit because we looked so good.
At that moment I wanted to take off my boots and forget it all. I didn't, but I wanted to.
I remember painting my fingernails a puke-green color in high school and my dad telling me I looked just like all the girls at the school where he taught. I was a little offended. No, Dad, I'm being original. I came up with this cool fingernail color all on my own because I am unique. What do you know about it?
What will it be next year? Shoulder pads? And will I wear them? Probably.
(trying to decide if I look good or just plain silly)
P.S. My boots don't actually keep precipitation from soaking my feet. Time to go shopping again.
P.P.S. I know I'm probably not normal. Please don't get offended if you love boots. Please still be my friend.
So I really want to read your latest blogpost, but lately I just haven't had the time! Why, you may be asking?
Jr. has stopped taking naps.
Let me say that again.
Jr. has stopped taking naps.
The other day while trying to get him to nap, I held his door closed for 45 minutes. Luckily I was reading a good book at the time. Believe me, he checked every few moments to make sure I was still there, keeping him in his room (between bouts of spitting, kicking the door, and screaming).
I have no idea how anyone survives at this point.
At least I get to spend more time with him... (and he's usually much more fun to hang out with when I'm not forcing him to stay in his room, don't worry.)